for the first mile or so along this road. The road was a state road and
of macadam, and did not show footprints.

Tyson did not know a great deal about tracking, but he knew something of
human nature, he had heard something of Hervey, and he eliminated the
road. He believed that he would not overtake Hervey there.

Across the road, at intervals, several trails led up into the thicker
woods. One led to the Morton farm, another to Witches' Pond.

Tyson, being new at camp, did not know the direction of these trails,
but he knew that all trails go somewhere. He had heard, during the day,
that Hervey was on cordial terms with every farmer, squatter, tollgate
keeper, bridge tender, hobo, and traveling show for miles around.

So he examined these trails carefully at their beginnings beside the
road. Only one of them interested him. Upon this, about ten feet in from
the road, was a rectangular area impressed in the earth which, in the
woods, was still damp after the storm. With his flashlight Gilbert
examined this. He thought a box might have stood there. Then he noticed
two ruffled places in the earth, each on one of the long sides of the
rectangle. He knew then what it meant; a suit-case had stood there.

If he had known more about the circumstance of Hervey's leaving, he
might have been touched by the picture of the wandering minstrel
pausing to rest upon his burden, there at the edge of the woods.

So this was the trail. Elated, Gilbert hurried on, pausing occasionally
to verify his conviction by a footprint in the caked earth. The
consistency of the earth was ideal for footprints. Yes, some one had
passed here not more than an hour before. Here and there was an
occasional hole in the earth where a stick might have been pressed in,
showing that the stormy petrel had sometimes used his stick as a cane.

For half an hour Gilbert followed this trail with a feeling of elation,
of triumph. Soon he must overtake the wanderer. After a little, the
trail became indistinct where it passed through a low, marshy area. The
drenching of the woods by the late storm was apparent still in the low
places.

Gilbert trudged through this spongy support, all but losing his balance
occasionally. Soon he saw something black ahead of him. This was
Witches' Pond, though he did not know it by that name.

As he approached, the ground became more and more spongy and uncertain.
It was apparent that the pond had usurped much of the surrounding ma