times that he would study the signs around
the scene of action if Hopalong should not come back, and take a keen
delight, if warranted, in shooting Mr. Elkins full of holes with no
regard for an even break. He was thinking the matter over as his friend
breasted the first line of brush and could not refrain from giving a
slight warning. "Get him, Hoppy," he called, earnestly; "get him good.
Let _him_ do some of the moving about. I'll be here waiting for you."

Hopalong smiled in reply and sprang forward, the leaves and branches
quickly shutting him from Red's sight. He had worked out his plan of
action the night before when he was alone and the world was still, and
as soon as he had it to his satisfaction he had dropped off to sleep as
easily as a child--it took more than gun-play to disturb his nerves.
He glanced about him to make sure of his bearings and then struck on a
curving line for the river. The first hundred yards were covered with
speed and then he began to move more slowly and with greater regard for
caution, keeping close to the earth and showing a marked preference for
low ground. Sky-lines were all right in times of peace, but under the
present conditions they promised to become unhealthy. His eyes and ears
told him nothing for a quarter of an hour, and then he suddenly stopped
short and crouched as he saw the plain trail of a man crossing his own
direction at a right angle. From the bottom of one of the heel prints
a crushed leaf was slowly rising back towards its original position,
telling him how new the trail was; and as if this were not enough for
his trained mind he heard a twig snap sharply as he glanced along the
line of prints. It sounded very close, and he dropped instantly to one
knee and thought quickly. Why had the other left so plain a trail, why
had he reached up and broken twigs that projected above his head as he
passed? Why had he kicked aside a small stone, leaving a patch of moist,
bleached grass to tell where it had lain? Elkins had stumbled here, but
there were no toe marks to tell of it. Hopalong would not track, for he
was no assassin; but he knew that he would do if he were, and careless.
The answer leaped to his suspicious mind like a flash, and he did not
care to waste any time in trying to determine whether or not Elkins was
capable of such a trick. He acted on the presumption that the trail
had been made plain for a good reason, and that not far ahead at some
suitable place,--an