The message he had caught the night before had been that of the Whisperer; the one which had so fortunately wakened Curlie from what might have been a fatal sleep.
“And the Whisperer was less than forty miles away,” Joe now told himself. “If Curlie had got back to camp we might by now have had our man in handcuffs. As it is, he has made another day’s travel and the race is still young. But,” he thought, with a feeling of determination, “with Curlie, we’d catch him yet.”
CHAPTER XVI
A STRANGE STEED
As you have doubtless guessed, the camp discovered by Joe and Jennings was that made by Curlie. They had been on his trail and not on the trail of some stranger. But had they attempted to follow his trail from that last clump of willows where the reindeer had been tied they would have become more and more bewildered, and had they followed that trail all night they would have caught no glimpse of their lost companion.
That you may understand why all this is true, I must tell you what happened to Curlie after he began to approach the clump of willows from which rose the thin column of white vapor.
“Glad I’ve got my rifle,” he told himself, as he moved in close to the willows. “You can never tell what you’re coming up against.”
Walking on tiptoes, he approached the end of the willow clump farthest from the column of white vapor.
“Just slip in through here and have the first look,” he whispered.
Pushing aside the bushes, he disappeared behind the dead leaves. There was not a breath of wind. This made it hard. It was impossible to avoid rustling the leaves. Since there was no wind to stir up other leaves, he felt sure that his presence must be detected.
His breath came quick as he paused to listen. No sound came to him. He moved on a few paces, then suddenly he paused. Had he caught a sound? Yes, there it was, a rustling of the leaves, of branches switching together.