"We had better go easy," Tim said in a low voice, "until we're sure there's no chance of meeting the Eagles or the Foxes—"
"Sssh!" Don caught his arm.
Was that a noise? After a time it came again—the dry swish of dead leaves and the sharp crackle of dead wood under a weight.
Tim put his lips to Don's ears. "Over there—to the right."
Another silence. Then the noise again, farther off.
"They're at the last blaze," Tim whispered. "This is too close for comfort."
They made off with stealthy caution. Whenever they found clear ground they hurried, but for the most part it was slow work. All at once came a faint cry.
"They've found the empty hole," cried Tim. "Now they'll be after us."
"How will they know which way we went?" Don asked. Nevertheless, he hurried.
Ten minutes later they paused to listen. Far back of them they heard something which made them look at each other anxiously.