The storm still continued and the rain poured down with a steadiness that was dismal enough to contemplate. But to the discomfort Allen gave scant heed.
"He must not get away," he said, to himself, over and over again. "We must capture him and make him take us to where the gang have Uncle Barnaby a prisoner."
"Right ye air, Allen."
To follow a trail under such circumstances was not easy, yet they found some tracks in the soft dirt directly in front of the cliff and these led on the back trail and then to where there was a deep ravine between the rocky slopes of the mountains.
Half a mile was covered and Watson called a halt.
"Ye want ter go slow yere," he cautioned, "I don't like the looks o' this territory nohow."
"What is wrong with it?"
"Full o' holes, fer one thing, and water under the surface. We'll go slow," and they did.
Occasionally it lightened and by the flashes of light they made out a fringe of woods skirting the hollow. The wind was coming up and this swept through the trees with a mournful sound.
