A little further down, the fugitives had evidently left the road
after getting their bearings.
"They must have heard the dogs," commented Garrick. "They are
doubling on their tracks, now, and making for the Ramapo River in
the hope of throwing the dogs off the scent. That's the game. It's
an old trick."
We came, sure enough, in a few minutes to the river. That had
indeed been their objective point. Cherry was baffled. We stuck
close to Dillon, after our previous experience, as we stopped to
talk over hastily what to do.
Had they gone up or down, or had they crossed? There was not much
time that we could afford to lose here in speculation if we were
going to catch them.
Cherry was casting backward in an instinctive endeavour to pick up
the trail. Dillon had taken her across and she had not succeeded
in finding the scent on the opposite bank for several hundred
yards on either side.
"They started off toward the southwest," reasoned Garrick quickly.
"Then they turned in this direction.
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