Yet, any one, seeing him as he traversed the miles from the Royal Palm Park at Miami, would have supposed from his gait that he was on some aimless ramble.

Now, alert, quick-stepping, eager, he made his swift way along the windings of the secret path.
Light as were his steps, they creaked lamentably at times on the boards of a bridge-span.

More than once, he heard slitherings, in the water and marsh to either side, as some serpent or other slimy swamp-dweller wriggled away, at his passing.

The collie trotted gravely along, just in front of him, pausing once in a while, as if to make certain the man was following.
The silence and gloom and sinister solemnity of the place had had a dampening effect on the dog's gay spirits.

The backward glances at his self-chosen master were for reassuring himself, rather than for guidance.