"I see something of a clearing ahead," an nounced Sam presently.
"And a trail!" cried Fred. "Thank fortune for that!"
The clearing reached, they found a well-defined trail running to the southwestward.
"That must run to Caville," announced Dick. "See, there is a regular wagon track."
"I hope it is the right road," returned Fred. They were soon out on the plains again, and then into another patch of timber. They had to ford a small stream, and on the other side came to a fork in the trail.
"Which way now?" questioned Sam, as all came to a halt in perplexity.
"This seems to be the main road, although it is hard to tell one from the other," said Dick after an examination.
The others agreed with the eldest Rover, and once more they went forward But, in less than a mile, they saw that the road was not in as good a condition as that left behind.
"This looks as if we had made a mistake," observed Fred. "Oh, what luck we are having."
"I'd like to know—" began Tom, when he stopped abruptly, for out of the brushwood an old man had stepped, gun in hand.
