And with another resounding slap, the hearty colonel gave the boys a
vigorous shove which sent them forward among the trees, near which they
had halted.

CHAPTER III.

WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED.

Jack Carleton was too sensible a youth to suppose that the Lost Trail
could be found by a blind wandering through the immense expanse of
wilderness, which stretched hundreds of miles in almost every direction
from the little settlement of Martinsville. Both he and Otto had a
strong hope, when they reached home after their stirring adventure with
Deerfoot, that the colt Toby would follow them of his own accord. He
belonged to a species possessing such unusual intelligence that there
would have been nothing remarkable in such a proceeding, and the fact
that he did not do so, gave ground for the belief that he had fallen
into the hands of parties who prevented the animal from doing as he
chose.

One fact was clearly established; Toby had been within a comparatively
short distance of the settlement, and, if he had remained anywhere in
the neighborhood during the late storm, traces of him must be found
without much difficulty. But one of the easiest things in the world is
to theorize over any problem; to push that theory to a successful
conclusion is altogether another matter.

While it lacked a couple of hours of noon, the boys reached an elevated
section which gave them an extended view in every direction. Looking to
the eastward, Otto fancied he could detect the gleam of the distant
Mississippi, but Jack assured him he was mistaken. Too many miles lay
between them and the mighty Father of Waters for the eye to traverse the
space.

Young Carleton took off his cap and drew his handkerchief across his
perspiring forehead. Then he sighed and smiled.

"This doesn't appear so hopeful to me as it did last night, when we sat
around the fire and talked it over; but of course we won't give up so
long as there's the least hope."

"And it won't do for me to give him up then," replied Otto, with a
meaning shake of his head; "you don't know my fader as well as me."

"I don't want to either," remarked Jack, who did not think it his duty
to refrain from showing the contempt he felt for the miserly, cruel
parent of his friend.

"No," observed Otto, with a touch of that grim humor which he sometimes
displayed, "I doesn't dinks dot you and him could have much fun
together."

The young friends were too accustomed to the