He's alive. He's in there now,
sir. Some way he'll keep alive. If you'd seen his face, all scarlet with
passion, twisted with pain, and black with hate, and heard him swearing
that oath, you'd know it was a sure thing. I ain't done with him yet,
and I've brought this awful thing on her."

"And I haven't begun with him yet," said McLean, setting his teeth.
"I've been away too slow and too easy, believing there'd be no greater
harm than the loss of a tree. I've sent for a couple of first-class
detectives. We will put them on his track, and rout him out and rid the
country of him. I don't propose for him to stop either our work or our
pleasure. As for his being in the swamp now, I don't believe it. He'd
find a way out last night, in spite of us. Don't you worry! I am at the
helm now, and I'll see to that gentleman in my own way."

"I wish to my soul you had seen and heard him!" said Freckles,
unconvinced.

They entered the swamp, taking the route followed by the Bird Woman and
the Angel. They really did find the logs, almost where the Angel had
predicted they would be. McLean went to the South camp and had an
interview with Crowen that completely convinced him that the Angel
was correct there also. But he had no proof, so all he could do was to
discharge the man, although his guilt was so apparent that he offered to
withdraw the wager.

Then McLean sent for a pack of bloodhounds and put them on the trail of
Black Jack. They clung to it, on and on, into the depths of the swamp,
leading their followers through what had been considered impassable and
impenetrable ways, and finally, around near the west entrance and into
the swale. Here the dogs bellowed, raved, and fell over each other in
their excitement. They raced back and forth from swamp to swale, but
follow the scent farther they would not, even though cruelly driven. At
last their owner attributed their actions to snakes, and as they were
very valuable dogs, abandoned the effort to urge them on. So that all
they really established was the fact that Black Jack had eluded their
vigilance and crossed the trail some time in the night. He had escaped
to the swale; from there he probably crossed the corduroy, and reaching
the lower end of the swamp, had found friends. It was a great relief to
feel that he was not in the swamp, and it raised the spirits of every
man on the line, though many of them expressed regrets that he who
was undoubtedly most to blame should escape,