f sliding them down, but once we get them started
they'll go right enough."

"We'll give it a try," said Mr. Bradby. His usual good humor was fast
re-asserting itself now that they had reached a haven of comparative
safety, and he was ready to try any scheme that promised even the
smallest chance of success.

Without wasting any further words on the matter the two men scrambled
through the bushes and made their way towards the horses. The lame
animal had quite recovered from its fright, and suffered its owner to
lead it up the slight rise to the wattles, though there it drew back as
if conscious of the drop beneath. But by dint of prodding and coaxing
Bradby forced it through the crackling brush, and then, with a wild
whinny of fear, it lost its footing and slid down the slope in an
avalanche of grass and twigs. Cumshaw's mount made the descent in fine
style, and the two men followed.

"Now," said Bradby, when they stood once more on level ground, "the
further we get into this timber the better, I say. I don't suppose any
passer-by would be likely to notice that we've come down here, do you?"

"All things considered," Mr. Cumshaw said slowly, "we've made little
mess. We've got to thank that grassy slope for that. If it had been dry
earth there'd have been tracks enough in all conscience. Yes, I think we
can reasonably say that we've no need to fear anything--unless
accidents."

As near as they could judge the valley was about a mile across at its
widest, but it merged so gently into the further side of the ranges that
it was almost impossible to say exactly. The wood grew thicker as the
men advanced, until presently it was with difficulty that they could
make their way forward.

"Getting pretty close," Bradby said at length.

Cumshaw nodded. He was too busy thinking over certain little
peculiarities of the wood to take much notice of his companion's
remarks. His quick eye had seen little cuts in the trees, bits of bark
that had been chipped off here and there, and the sight set him
wondering. The cuts were curiously like the blazing of a trail. They
were regular, they were all about the same height on the tree-trunks,
and they looked as if they had been made with an axe, not the crude
stone weapon of an aborigine, but the sharp steel axe of a white man.
Yet the place seemed deserted, and in all the air was that sense of
utter desolation and absence of life that only those who have lived
close to Nature can feel