used and looked about. "They'll search
here," he prophesied, and then; "Those woods look good to me."

The Squibbs' woods, growing rank in the damp ravine at the bottom of the
little valley, ran to within a hundred feet of the out-building. Dense
undergrowth choked the ground to a height of eight or ten feet around
the boles of the close set trees. If they could gain the seclusion
of that tangled jungle there was little likelihood of their being
discovered, provided they were not seen as they passed across the open
space between their hiding place and the wood.

"We'd better make a break for it," advised Bridge, and a moment later
the three moved cautiously toward the wood, keeping the out-house
between themselves and the farm house. Almost in front of them as they
neared the wood they saw a well defined path leading into the thicket.
Single-file they entered, to be almost instantly hidden from view, not
only from the house but from any other point more than a dozen paces
away, for the path was winding, narrow and closely walled by the budding
verdure of the new Spring. Birds sang or twittered about them, the mat
of dead leaves oozed spongily beneath their feet, giving forth no sound
as they passed, save a faint sucking noise as a foot was lifted from
each watery seat.

Bridge was in the lead, moving steadily forward that they might put as
much distance as possible between themselves and the detective should
the latter chance to explore the wood. They had advanced a few hundred
yards when the path crossed through a small clearing the center of which
was destitute of fallen leaves. Here the path was beaten into soft mud
and as Bridge came to it he stopped and bent his gaze incredulously upon
the ground. The girl and the youth, halting upon either side, followed
the direction of his eyes with theirs. The girl gave a little,
involuntary gasp, and the boy grasped Bridge's hand as though fearful
of losing him. The man turned a quizzical glance at each of them and
smiled, though a bit ruefully.

"It beats me," he said.

"What can it be?" whispered the boy.

"Oh, let's go back," begged the girl.

"And go along to father with Burton?" asked Bridge.

The girl trembled and shook her head. "I would rather die," she said,
firmly. "Come, let's go on."

The cause of their perturbation was imprinted deeply in the mud of the
pathway--the irregular outlines of an enormous, naked, human foot--a
great, uncouth foot that bespoke