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At last the boys reached the spot where they had come out of the woods after leaving the _Dartaway_ and skirting the swamp.
"Have you a lantern on the wagon?" asked d.i.c.k, of Ike Henry.
"Yes, sah."
"Then we'll have to buy or borrow it, my man. Supposing I give you two dollars for the use of the horses and another dollar for the lantern, how will that strike you?"
"Dat's all right, boss," answered Ike Henry, who remembered that the lantern had cost but seventy-five cents.
d.i.c.k pa.s.sed over the bills and received the lantern, which was filled with oil, and also a box of matches, which Ike Henry chanced to carry.
"Wot you-all gwine to do now?" asked the colored man, as he prepared to hitch up his team again.
"We are going back into the woods, where we left our flying machine,"
answered Tom.
"You-all be careful dat yo' don't git in de swamp. Dat am a terribul bad spot."
"We'll be careful."
"Tell me, where does that mainroad on the other side of the river run to?" put in d.i.c.k.
"Dat road?" queried Ike Henry. "Dat way or dat way?" and he motioned first to the east and then to the west.
"I mean to the westward."
"Why, dat's de way to git to Sherodburg an' Fremville."
"Do you know how far those places are?"
"Sherodburg am 'bout eight miles; Fremville am 'bout twenty or moah."
"All right. Come on, boys," said d.i.c.k. "Good night, Ike."
"Good night, sah! Much erbliged!" cried the aged colored man. "Hope yo'-all dun catch dem rascals," he added earnestly.
"We'll do our best," answered Tom.
In a few seconds more the Rover boys had plunged into the woods. Here it was quite dark, and d.i.c.k took the lead, holding the lantern close to the ground, so that he might follow the trail he and his brothers had made on leaving the _Dartaway_. All were gratified to find that the wind had died down completely.
"I don't know how a run in the darkness will go," said d.i.c.k. "But we can try it. But I don't see how we are to steer."
"I've got my pocket compa.s.s with me," answered Sam. "That may help some.
We know those towns are west of us. We can sail along until we see the lights and then go down and ask about the touring car."
"A good idea, Sam."
Skirting the swamp with only the rays from the lantern to aid them was no easy task, and once Tom slipped from a clump of rushes and went down over his ankles in soft mud.
"Hi! hi! help me out!" he yelled. "Quick, before I get in any deeper!"
"Stand still!" called back d.i.c.k, and placed the lantern in another clump of rushes. Then he caught hold of a tree that was handy and took a grip on Sam's hand. "Now catch hold of Tom," he went on, and the youngest Rover did so. Then came a long and strong pull, and with a sucking sound, poor Tom came out of the sticky mud and landed beside his brothers.
"Wow! that's a mess!" said the fun-loving Rover, as he surveyed his feet, plastered thick with the mud.
"Stick to the dry ground after this," advised d.i.c.k. "Come on, the dead leaves will soon brush that mud off." And forward he went once more, holding the lantern as before. In a little while after this the swamp was left behind, and then progress through the woods was more agreeable.
"d.i.c.k, don't you think we ought to be getting to the _Dartaway_ pretty soon?" asked Tom, after a quarter of an hour more had pa.s.sed and they were still moving forward.
"Yes."
"It didn't seem so far away as this," put in Sam. "Are you sure you are following the trail?"
"You can see for yourselves," answered d.i.c.k, and held the lantern close to the ground.
"Footsteps, sure enough," murmured Tom. Then of a sudden he bent closer. "But look!" he cried. "They are not ours!"
"What?" exclaimed his two brothers, in surprise.
"These footprints are not ours--they are altogether too big. We have picked up and are following the wrong trail!"
CHAPTER XXV
THE TRAIL OF THE TOURING CAR
All started in astonishment at the footprints before them. What Tom had said was true--the prints were altogether too large to have been made by their own feet in walking through the woods.
"How could I have made such a mistake!" murmured d.i.c.k.
"I wonder where you got mixed up?" said Sam. "I looked at the prints down by the swamp. They seemed to be O. K. there."
"Then that is where I must have gotten mixed up--maybe after we pulled Tom from the mud."
"We'll have to go back," came from Tom. "Too bad! But it can't be helped. I don't blame you, d.i.c.k," he added, hastily.
"Neither do I," put in Sam. "Anybody might make such a mistake, with nothing but that smoky lantern to guide him."
They turned back, and after a while reached the edge of the swamp. Here, after a long search, they found their own footprints.
"Now we are all right!" cried Sam. "Come on!"
"Yes, and let us be careful that we don't make another mistake," added Tom.
"I don't know about this," said d.i.c.k, hesitatingly. "Somehow, it doesn't look altogether right to me."