Dick, in trying to descend quickly, while the voices were still raised, had missed his hold on the trunk, and gone slipping downward through yielding twigs and masses of leaves. It was more the noise occasioned by the fall than the mishap which sent another icy chill along his spine, for he dropped only a few feet, landing on the ground where there was sufficient vegetation to break the force of his descent.
Scarcely daring to breathe, he crouched low, listening to the excited voices of the searchers, and expecting every instant to find himself surrounded.
Again Dick was on the point of yielding obedience to his overwrought nerves and sending a yell of surrender; but, somehow, it was never uttered. The flickering torchlight was again picking out in strong yellow dashes the limbs above his head.
Pressed hard against the tree trunk, Dick heard rough, angry exclamations, as vines and bushes impeded the lumberjacks' progress, and trembled violently as footsteps grew louder. He seemed to be cornered; his glorious plan doomed to inglorious failure.
"I tell ye, Pete, the critter ain't fur off," cried Jimmy. "Keep yer peepers on the branches, fellers!"
"Only hope they do," reflected Dick. "Cæsar! Wonder if I dare risk it?"
A few yards distant, the moonlight revealed a dense mass of brush and thickets surrounded by high bunch grass.
"With about thirty feet start, I'd wager the whole crowd would never find me," thought Dick, grimly. "I won't give up yet—no, sir; here goes!"
Throwing himself flat on his stomach, he began to worm his way toward the goal, taking advantage of every shadow, a loud crashing of feet and flaring light close by showing that there wasn't an instant to spare.
Blades of grass swept into the boy's face; twigs and sticks made his hands smart painfully. But, with a firm resolve not to give up until every vestige of hope was gone, he kept ahead.