At daybreak Fothergill and Cartwright plunged into the woods. The trail was steep and broken, and when at noon the constables stopped for a few minutes a shining streak, not very far off, marked the St. Martin River. In front, tangled spruce trees, small, stiff junipers, and rocks dotted the long slopes. Thick brush grew in the stones, and on the whole the horses embarrassed the constables. The trail had vanished, but Fothergill thought the ridge in the distance the height-of-land, and when he got across, and reached the old Indian trail he might be able to use his horse’s speed.
He agreed with Fraser that the thieves would not entangle themselves in the woods. To steer for the park country was obviously their plan, and they would follow the old trail round the bottom of the broken tablel
