line, or as the crows
fly. All sorts of obstacles interfered with such a scheme. Now it was a
deep gully that barred their progress; a little further on they came to a
stretch of swampy ground, where a runner would find himself bogged and
placed in a desperate condition, if he attempted to push through. But
wise Fred had early discovered what seemed to be a fairly well worn trail
that seemed to lead in the direction they were intending to go. At times
it was exceedingly difficult to see the track, but both these boys had
keen eyes, and used good judgment, so they managed to come upon it
frequently.

All the time they continued to make note of certain landmarks that would
aid them later on, when again passing through this strip of woodland and
jungle. Possibly there would be a mile of it, against three by the road.
Plainly then, if a runner could get through in fairly decent shape he
would have saved more or less time in so doing.

The two Riverport lads had perhaps gone half way, and were feeling well
satisfied with the progress made, when Fred stopped and held up his hand.

"Listen, Bristles!" he exclaimed, "what's all that racket do you think?"

"Sounds like dogs barking and snarling, to me, Fred."

"But away out here in the woods you wouldn't expect to hear a pack of
dogs, unless they were running wild," urged Fred, still listening.

"Whew! that reminds me of what I heard an old farmer tell in the market
one day last week," exclaimed Bristles. "He said he had lost three sheep
this Spring from dogs, and that a pack of sheep killers was loose up
around his section!"

CHAPTER VI

THE WILD DOG PACK

"How's that, Bristles, a pack of wild dogs running around, and killing
sheep?" Fred demanded, appearing to take uncommon interest in what his
companion had just said.

"Yes, and Fred, I honestly believe that farmer lives somewhere up in this
region, because I heard him tell about having a runaway near the
Belleville tollgate, and you know that's where we expect to fetch out on
the road ahead."

"Then that settle it, Bristles. And there's no doubt we're hearing the
yelping of that same pack right now. I reckon they're on some track or
other."

"Whew! I hope it isn't _our_ track then!" exclaimed the other lad, as he
began hurriedly to look about him for a stout club, and eye the
neighboring trees, as if an unpleasant alternative had forced itself upon
his notice.

"The sounds seem to come from