The strange voices of the woods were not mysteries to him.

They were more familiar to him than the voices of men.
He recalled that, while on his circuit over the ridge to get behind the cavern, he had heard the report of a rifle far off in the direction of the chestnut grove, but, as that was a favorite place of the settlers for shooting squirrels, he had not thought anything of it at the time.

Now it had a peculiar significance.

He turned abruptly from the trail he had been following and plunged down the steep hill.

Crossing the creek he took to the cover of the willows, which grew profusely along the banks, and striking a sort of bridle path he started on a run.