“Sam and the Shark, both of ’em!” he exclaimed. Then his voice rose shrilly in excitement and amazement. “Yes, Sam and the Shark, but Jupiter Crickets! See who’re with ’em!”
CHAPTER XXII
A GAME OF HARE AND HOUNDS
When Sam and the Shark plunged into the brush, it was with full belief that they were close upon the trail of the fugitive. Supposedly, too, each had heard the same sounds. It was a curious circumstance, therefore, that they did not keep side by side, but almost from the start drew apart, a fact which escaped Sam’s notice for a little. So intent was he on the pursuit that he failed to observe that the Shark was no longer at his elbow; and discovery of this was delayed until he became aware that the sounds by which he had tried to guide his course had died away. Then, pulling up, he peered eagerly about him. The growth was dense enough to shut off the glare of the fire, and he could make out nothing but lumpy shadows of thickets and black pillars of tree trunks. Even the Shark had vanished in the gloom.
Sam whistled softly, then called. The answer came promptly.
“This way, Sam! You’re off the track.”
“Not a bit of it,” Sam retorted. “But where are you trying to go?”
There was an instant’s pause. Then Sam heard twigs crack under foot, and, presently, made out the Shark approaching.
“What are you waiting for?” the younger boy demanded impatiently.
“You—for one thing,” said Sam. “What did you stray off so for?”
“Stray yourself! I chased a noise till it stopped. Then I stopped, too.”