Having found that this did no good, he had started off back along the track they had come by on the previous day, but in less than ten minutes he was off it; and the two, who followed at a discreet distance, had watched his growing fury and fright when he found himself quite lost in the pathless depths of the wilderness.
"He can't go dat way much furder," observed Pete. "He gettin' down in de deal bad swamp. He go in up to his fool neck if he don't be keerful."
Sure enough the quaking muck-land broke beneath the young scoundrel's weight, and in he went. With a yell of fright he caught at a branch, pulled himself out, and staggered back.
"What's he going to do now?" whispered Lionel.
"Reckon he going climb dat tree an' see whar he am."
Pete was right. Randal began shinning up the stem of a tall, slender tree by the water's edge, the only one which seemed to give a possible view of any of the surrounding country. No doubt he thought he might spot the trail from the summit.
Rutherford, who had been staring hard at the tree, suddenly clutched Pete's arm. "What's that thing up in the branches just above him?" he asked sharply.
Pete took a long stare. "By golly, sah, it am a snake! An' a mighty big one, sure!"
Rutherford started forward, slipping a cartridge into his rifle.
"Don't shoot, sah," whispered Pete. "Dat ain't no poison snake. It am only a old white oak snake."