They ran whining here and there. One of them swam across to the farther bank, but even there the trail could not be gained. “He knows we’re after him,” said Hank Jeffries briefly. “Here’s where the fun begins.” “No trouble at all!” called Themis cheerily. “He might cover his own trail, but he can’t cover the trail of his horse and a grizzly bear. Impossible! Take the bloodhounds across. You send a pair of them upstream, and I’ll take another pair down, and we’ll pick up the trail directly.” It was done, but no trail developed. They had been a mile upstream and a mile down it, and there was no result. Hank Jeffries shook his head, cursing softly. The others were equally amazed. “But, Dad,” cried Gloria, “he can’t have made the trails disappear into thin air!” “Don’t talk, please,” snapped her father. “We have work to do. We’ll try this bank of the creek, Hank.” So up the nearer bank of the creek they worked the hounds until, as on the farther side, they were stopped by waterfalls where the fugitives could not have gone.
