He would not have crossed the road, for there were two
houses on the other side; there would have been no object in going
on over the mountain unless he meant to escape, and if he had gone
over there for another reason he would hardly have had time to get
to the Court House before noon: nor would he have gone back along
the road on that side, for on that side, too, was a cabin not far
away. So Hale turned and walked straight away from the road where
the walking was easiest--down a ravine, and pushing this way and
that through the bushes where the way looked easiest. Half a mile
down the ravine he came to a little brook, and there in the black
earth was the faint print of a man's left foot and in the hard
crust across was the deeper print of his right, where his weight
in leaping had come down hard. But the prints were made by a shoe
and not by a moccasin, and then Hale recalled exultantly that the
Red Fox did not have his moccasins on the morning he turned up on
guard. All the while he kept a sharp lookout, right and left, on
the ground--the Red Fox must have thrown his cartridge shell
somewhere, and for that Hale was looking.
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