He stole along the path; the terror of the river was ever in his thoughts, and the specter of his fear seemed to flit before him and lure him on.  Presently he caught his first glimpse of the bayou and his legs shook under him; but the path wound deeper still into what appeared to be an untouched solitude, wound on between the crowding tree forms, a little back from the shore, with an intervening tangle of vines and bushes.  He scanned this closely as he hurried forward, scarcely conscious that he was searching for some trampled space at the water’s edge; but the verdant wall preserved its unbroken continuity, and twenty minutes later he came within sight of the Hicks’ clearing and the keel boat, where it rested against the bank.

A little farther on he found the spot where Slosson had launched the skiff the night before.  The keel of his boat had cut deep into the slippery clay; more than this, the impress of the small shoe was repeated here, and just beside it was the print of a child’s bare foot.

He no longer doubted that Betty and Hannibal had been taken across the bayou to the cabin, and he ran back up the path the distance of a mile and plunged into the woods on his right, his purpose being to pass around the head of the expanse of sluggish water to a point from which he could later approach the cabin.  But the cabin proved to be better defended than he had foreseen; and as he advanced, the difficulties of the task he had set himself became almost insurmountable; yet sustained as he was by his imperative need, he tore his way through the labyrinth of trailing vines, or floundered across acre-wide patches of green slime and black mud, which at each step threatened to engulf him in their treacherous depths, until at the end of an hour he gained the southern side of the clearing and a firmer footing within the shelter of the woods.

Here he paused and took stock of his surroundings.  The two or three buildings Mr. Hicks had erected stood midway of the clearing and were very modest improvements adapted to their owner’s somewhat flippant pursuit of agriculture.  While Carrington was still staring about him, the cabin door swung open and a woman stepped forth.  It was the girl Bess.  She went to a corner of the building and called loudly: 

“Joe!  Oh, Joe!”

Carrington glanced in the direction of the keel boat and an instant later saw Slosson clamber over its side.  The tavern-keeper crossed to the cabin, where he was met by Bess, who placed in his hands what seemed to be a wooden bowl.  With this he slouched off to one of the outbuildings, which he entered.  Ten or fifteen minutes slipped by, then he came from the shed and after securing the door, returned to the cabin.  He was again met by Bess, who relieved him of the bowl; they exchanged a few words and Slosson walked away and afterward disappeared over the side of the keel boat.

This much was clear to the Kentuckian:  food had been taken to some one in the shed—­to Betty and the boy!—­more likely to George.