Then, filling a couple of cartridge belts, and chopping a handful of cartridges into his pocket in addition, he judged the preparations for the perilous undertaking to be complete. For four miles the _Seal_ crept along the coast line, then she was once more raised to the surface, and the two friends made ready to disembark. “Don’t shift the _Seal_ from here,” Silas said as they stepped ashore. “If we are beaten back we shall make straight for the boat.” “You may depend on me,” Wilson called, and, at that, the two would-be rescuers plunged into the jungle. For an hour they pressed on, and, realising full well the need for haste, they put forth every effort, while yet making their passage through the fungi as noiseless as possible. Scarce a word passed between them, and what little was said was in whispers. To Seymour, fresh from his terrible experience, every fungi-clump concealed an imaginary foe, and every moment he expected to hear the terrifying cry of his enemies. But they reached the ridge in safety, and, with a final glance round to assure themselves that they were not followed, they descended into the valley, and passed out on to the plain. Here Silas produced a small electric lantern, which, with his usual forethought, he had brought with him; and, while Seymour kept a sharp watch for enemies, animal or otherwise, he made a thorough examination of the ground around the entrance to the valley. The footsteps of the mighty Triceratops were plainly to be seen, but of Garth or his captors there seemed no trace for a time. Then suddenly a smothered cry left Haverly’s lips. “Jupiter! I’ve got it!” Seymour hurried to his side. In the ground at his feet, plainly revealed by the light of the lantern, was the impression of a horrible, ape-like foot, and close beside it was the imprint of a boot. The baronet gave a whistle of astonishment. “The brute must have been close behind Garth when we turned for the valley,” he said. “See, here are more footprints leading out across the plain.” With eyes bent upon the trail, the two comrades moved forward over the spongy ground in the direction of the distant hills. Two miles they covered, then a certain peculiarity about the trail struck Haverly. “Say, Seymour,” he remarked, “have you noticed? The footprints of the critturs we’re followin’ run close alongside the trail of the Triceratops. I reckon that looks considerable queer!” “I think I can tell you what it means,” replied the baronet, after a moment’s thought. “Wal?” Haverly inquired. “The brutes must have seen Mervyn carried off,” Seymour asserted, “and have followed the trail in the hopes of his being pitched off the animal’s back, when, of course, they could capture him, if he were still alive, without much trouble.” “I guess you’re right,” returned the American, and once more silence fell between them. Three hours went by, and then Silas called a halt.