Only Brace
knew that it rested on the handle of his pistol.
From time to time the latter stopped and consulted the faint trail with
a minuteness that showed recent careful study. Suddenly he paused. "I
made a blaze hereabouts to show where to leave the trail. There it is,"
he added, pointing to a slight notch cut in the trunk of an adjoining
tree.
"But we've just passed one," said Dunn, "if that's what you are looking
after, a hundred yards back."
Brace uttered an oath, and ran back in the direction signified by his
companion. Presently he returned with a smile of triumph.
"They've suspected something. It's a clever trick, but it won't hold
water. That blaze which was done to muddle you was cut with an axe;
this which I made was done with a bowie-knife. It's the real one. We're
not far off now. Come on."
They proceeded cautiously, at right angles with the "blazed" tree, for
ten minutes more. The heat was oppressive; drops of perspiration rolled
from the forehead of the sheriff, and at times, when he attempted to
steady his uncertain limbs, his hands shrank from the heated,
blistering bark he touched with ungloved palms.
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