Payne
carefully searched the country about with his glasses and, assured that
no skulking watchers were in sight, they waded out from the hammock and
plunged into the elderberry jungle to the north.
From the first they had literally to break their way forward. The
elder trees grew from ten to twelve feet in height and so close
together that to squeeze between them was impossible. Payne went ahead
at first, walking sidewise, throwing his shoulder against the brittle
stems and crashing a path through. Higgins soon stepped to the fore
and did likewise. At the end of an hour, when they had covered a scant
mile, they paused.
They were now in the heart of the elder growth, hidden from all the
rest of the world and isolated from anything that might have promised
relief. In the branches innumerable large, glossy blackbirds kept up a
maddening chatter, and higher above, up in the hot sky, the omnipresent
buzzards floated lazily, awaiting sight of possible carrion prey.
Animals began to appear almost underfoot, coons and rabbits, disturbed
for the first time in their fastness. Water holes appeared rarely, and
the water in them was unfit for drinking. Despite the shade it was
stiflingly hot.
Higgins began to pant. He was broader and stockier than Payne and less
favorably built for wedging his weight through the growth.
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