“Someone driving live stock has been here—lately, too,” declared Hiram, inspecting the whip. “It broke, and he threw it away. Hold on. I was long enough on a farm to trail a cattle track, if there’s one around here. Yes, there is,” and the speaker’s tone rose in volume as he bent over and, running along, inspected the ground keenly.
“Found it?” asked the young aviator, pressing close after his comrade.
“Yes. It’s plain enough, now. Come on, Dave; we’re in luck, sure.”
They could now make out a beaten track, and tell the irregularities in the ground made by the trampling of many feet. The track finally ended at the edge of a small stream.
“Here’s where they forded the brook,” explained Hiram. “We’ll take off our shoes and stockings and wade over.”
This they did. The opposite bank gained, they saw through a fringe of bushes what looked like a level field. They could hear occasional bleatings.
“Oh, say, we’re all right now,” declared the sanguine Hiram.
They hurried on their shoes, eager to pursue their investigations.
“The sheep are over yonder,” said Hiram, pointing to a corner of the field. “We’re surely near some farm now. I shouldn’t wonder if we found some one guarding the sheep, too, for—hear that!”
It was the echo of distant yelping and barking to which Hiram called attention.