“You think, then, you are ready to go on in a sane manner?” queried Bub.
Stanley smiled in a sickly fashion, and Bub slowly closed his knife and rose to his feet. “All right; we’ll strike off. A quarter of a mile between us and Nick, after we’ve moved carefully, is better than ten miles of that kind of blazing.” And he pointed in huge disgust at the obvious traces of their flight.
“To begin with,” continued Bub, “we’ll turn at right angles and double back towards Flat-top. Nick will follow us to this point on the run and will take it for granted we were pointed down stream, as we were. After we’ve gone back a half a mile we’ll turn again and go in our original direction, perhaps following the stream quite closely.”
Having learned his little lesson Stanley pressed his lips together firmly and endeavored to imitate his companion’s deliberate mode of traveling. To his relief he soon found the old fear deserting him and it was seldom that he looked back.
Although seeming to proceed aimlessly Bub in reality was exercising all the tricks of his craft, just as he would wish Abner to know he was doing. He bowed low and passed under, not through, obstructing boughs and dry limbs. He
