He had not to follow it, only pick out the rail of the fence near where it passed and hurry to that spot.
And there it was, waiting for him.

If Hervey had been well versed in tracking lore and less of a seeker after glory, he would have scrutinized the lowest rail of the fence, under which the track went, for bits of hair.

But Hervey Willetts was not after bits of hair.

It was quite like him that he did not care two straws about what sort of animal he was tracking.

He was tracking the Eagle badge.
In the sparse woods the tracks appeared as regular tracks again, sharply cut in the hard earth.