At times this proved so difficult a matter that Bob was almost on the
point of abandoning the hillside tangle of boulders and brush in favour
of the open highway. He reflected in time that Saleratus Bill must come
out by this route; and he shrewdly surmised the expert trailer might be
able from some former minute observation to recognize his footprints.
Therefore he struggled on until the road dipped down toward the lower
country. He remembered that, on the way in, his captor had led him first
down the mountain, and then up again. Bob resolved to abandon the road
and keep to the higher contours, trusting to cut the trail where it
again mounted to his level. To be sure, it was probable that there
existed some very good reason why the road so dipped to the valley--some
dike, ridge or deep canon impassable to horses. Bob knew enough of
mountains to guess that. Still, he argued, that might not stop a man
afoot.
The rest of a long, hard day he spent in proving this latter
proposition. The country was very broken. A dozen times Bob scrambled
and slid down a gorge, and out again, doing thus an hour's work for a
half mile gain.
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