Now that he had the powerful comradeship of Sergeant Whitley, the wilderness became beautiful instead of gloomy for Dick.
The live oaks and magnolias were magnificent, and there was a wild luxuriance of vegetation.

Birds of brilliant plumage darted among the foliage, and squirrels chattered on the boughs.

He saw bear tracks again, and called the sergeant's attention to them.
"It would be nice to be hunting them, instead of men," said Whitley.
"You can find nice, black fellows down here, good to eat, and it's a deal safer to hunt them than it is the grizzlies and silver-tips of the Rockies." They saw now much cleared land, mostly cotton fields, and now and then a white man or a negro working, but there was always enough forest for cover.

They waded the numerous brooks and creeks, allowing their clothing to dry in the warm sun, as they marched, and about two hours before sunrise the sergeant, wary and always suspicious, suggested that they stop a while.
"I've an idea," he said, "that Slade and his men are still following us.
Oh, he's an ugly fellow, full of sin, and if they're not far behind us we ought to know it." "Just as you say," said Dick, glad enough to shift the responsibility upon such capable shoulders.

"How would this clump of bushes serve for a hiding place while we wait ?" "Good enough.