While they lost the trail now and then, he saw the sergeant recover it in the openings.

He noted, too, that it was increasing in size.

Little trails were flowing into the big one like brooks into a river, and the main course was uniformly south, but bearing slightly upward on the slope.
The sergeant stopped at the melancholy cry of an owl, apparently three or four hundred yards ahead.

Both he and Dick raised their heads and listened for the answer, which they felt sure was ready.

The long, sinister hoot in reply came from a point considerably farther away, but at about the same height on the slope.
"They have two forces, sir," said the sergeant to Colonel Winchester, "and I think they're about to unite." "As a wilderness fighter, what would you suggest, Sergeant ?" "To wait here a little and lie hidden in the brush.