There were no objections to the first. It was a very long way, and it was doubtful if he could find it even in broad daylight. As it was, it would be dark in an hour. Besides, Pete had certainly meant him to follow.
Randal must mean to spend the night in the swamp. That was clear. Therefore he must have some camping place.
"I'll follow," muttered the boy between set teeth, and started off.
Though the sun was not yet down, it was already dusk beneath the thick shade of the towering timber, and in the half light the trail was most difficult to follow. The others had long ago passed out of hearing.
The night life of the swamp was waking. Enormous owls hooted weirdly, then came the thundering bellow of a bull alligator, and presently above all these the ghastly, half-human shriek of a panther calling to its mate.
Stumbling and struggling, Lionel hurried on. In a little he came to a thick belt of tall saw grass. The two pairs of footmarks entered it, but the trails beyond were so confused with the passage of deer and other animals that the boy recognized with a shock that he could not follow the human footsteps.
Very near despair, he turned back. No, he could not find Randal's trail. He stopped. "I'm done!" he muttered hopelessly, and stood straining his ears for any sound of his former companions.
Just then, as he was almost giving up, he caught sight of a morsel of something white stuck on a broken stem beside the trail. It was a tiny piece of paper, and on it, marked with a muddy finger tip, an arrow pointing in a certain direction.
"Pete!" exclaimed Lionel joyfully. A load rolled off his mind. Marking the direction carefully, he pushed on fast. Now he was on the lookout, he found other signs; a broken twig, a stick, laid in the path.