"Maybe they'll stop in a few minutes," he reflected. "Whew! All kinds of creeps in this adventure! Ah!"
A feeling of relief shot through him, as he drew up well in the shelter, and cast an anxious look behind.
The sight was disheartening. A half dozen blazing torches could be seen moving about in an erratic fashion, sometimes disappearing behind the trees. There was one, and Dick's eyes fastened upon it with fascinated attention, that kept headed straight toward him.
With his lips tight set, he crawled still further, snuggling down close to the ground, then stopped and began to pull leaves and grasses over his body, until the nearness of the footsteps warned him that it was time to stop.
"Now it's all up," groaned Dick, keyed to a high pitch of excitement.
A heavy footstep close at hand jarred on his nerves like an electric shock. Almost holding his breath, he gazed fearsomely between the twigs of the protecting thicket. The searcher was coming nearer every second. The suspense was almost more than the boy could stand.
A short, stocky figure suddenly emerged into view, skirting around the thicket.
"Pete Colliver!" flashed through Dick Travers' mind.
A blazing pine-knot which drowned the pale green rays of the moon illuminated his irregular features with striking effect. Pete's little eyes were roving eagerly over every low-hanging branch, and a grunt of disappointment fell from his lips—the search had revealed nothing.
"Bust it! Whar has the warmint went, I'd like to know?" he growled.