"I'll go over to him," said Drew, and swung his horse to the left, but
only to come again to a halt.

He called over his shoulder: "What sort of a looking fellow?"

"Pretty keen--dark," answered Logan, slipping down into his original
position. "Thin face; black eyes."

"Ah, yes," murmured Drew, and started at a trot for the creek.

Once more he imitated the actions of Bard the day before, however, for
no sooner had the trees screened him thoroughly from the eyes of Logan
than he abandoned his direct course for the creek. He swung from the
saddle with an ease surprising in a man of such age and bulk and tossed
the reins over the head of the horse.

Then he commenced a cautious stalking through the woods, silent as an
Indian, stealthy of foot, with eyes that glanced sharply in all
directions. Once a twig snapped under foot, and after that he remained
motionless through a long moment, shrinking against the trunk of a tree
and scanning the forest anxiously in all directions. At length he
ventured out again, grown doubly cautious. In this manner he worked his
way up the course of the stream, always keeping the waters just within
sight but never passing out on the banks, where the walking would have
been tenfold easier. So he came in sight of a figure far off through the
trees.

If he had been cautious before, he became now as still as night.
Dropping to hands and knees, or crouching almost as prone, he moved from
the shadow of one tree to the next, now and then venturing a glance to