“Didn’t you ever sail up the Hudson?” Tom asked him.  “All the trails up the steep mountains are as plain as day from the river.  If you want to discover a trail get a bird’s-eye view.  Don’t you know that aviators discover trails that even hunters never knew about before?  If the kidnappers went up that mountain, they probably went an easy way, because they’re not scouts or woodsmen.  See?  It would be an awful job picking our way up that mountain from camp.  If those men are up that way they knew where they were going.  They’re not pioneers, they’re kidnappers.”

“Slady, you’re a wonder.”

“Except when it comes to climbing trees,” Tom said.

At Catskill they hired a skiff and rowed out to about the middle of the river.  From there Hervey was greatly surprised at what he saw.  His bantering mood was quieted at last and he became sober as Tom, holding the oar handles with one hand, pointed up to a mountain behind the bordering heights along the river.  Upon this, as upon others, were the faintest suggestions of lines.  No trails were to be seen, of course; only wriggling lines of shadow, as they seemed, now visible, now half visible, now fading out altogether like breath on a piece of glass.

It seemed incredible that mere paths, often all but undiscernible close at hand, should be distinguishable from this distance.  But there they were, and it needed only visual concentration upon them to perceive that they were not well defined paths to be sure, but thin, faint lines of shadow.  They lacked substance, but there they were.

“That’s old Tyrant,” Tom said.  “See?”

Hervey would never have recognized the mountain.  The side of it which they saw was not at all like the familiar side which faced Temple Camp.  That frowning, jungle-covered ascent seemed less forbidding from the river, but how Tom could identify it was beyond Hervey’s comprehension.

It was apparent that by following a road which began at Catskill they would skirt the mountain along its less precipitous ascent, and Tom assumed that the trail, so doubtfully and elusively marked upon the height, would be easily discoverable where it left the road, as undoubtedly it did.

Deduction and calculation were not at all in Hervey’s line; he would have been quite satisfied to plunge into the interminable thicket on the side near camp and get lost there.

“You see there is more than one way to kill a cat,” Tom observed.  “I was thinking of the kidnappers while you were thinking about the mountain.  As long as they went up I thought I might as well let them show us the easy way.”

“You’re a wonder, Slady!”

“There are two sides to every mountain,” Tom said.

“Like every story, hey?”

“You’re a good scout only you don’t use your brain enough.  You use your hands and feet and your heart, I can’t deny that.”

“The pleasure is mine,” said Hervey.  “We’re going to sneak up the back way, hey?”