The southwest wind was blowing softly, and so he quickened his steps southwesterly which meant along the lake.

Tracks and signs abounded; it was impossible to follow any one trail.

His plan was to keep on silently, trusting to luck, nor did he have long to wait.
Across a little opening of the woods to the west he saw a movement in the bushes, but it ceased, and he was in doubt whether the creature, presumably a deer, was standing there or had gone on.

"Never quit till you are sure," was one of Quonab's wise adages.

Rolf was bound to know what it was that had moved.