The ongoing hunt for suspected cop-killer Eric Frein looks more and more like an episode from the Animal Planet television series “Finding Bigfoot.” A scrap of obscure evidence turns up here, a sighting is reported there, yet there’s nothing concrete to put your hands on proving he’s still in the search area.

State police say Frein, 29, ambushed two state troopers on Sept. 12 outside their barracks in rural northeastern Pennsylvania, killing one and critically wounding another.

Three days later, Frein’s Jeep Cherokee was found partially submerged in a drainage basin in a swamp about 2 miles away from the crime scene. Inside the Jeep were Frein’s Social Security card, information about foreign embassies, camouflage paint and bullet casings matched to Frein’s .308 caliber rifle.

Discovery of the Jeep led authorities to speculate that Frein, attempting a getaway with his lights off, failed to see a T-junction and drove into the swamp, then hiked 15 to 20 miles to a heavily forested, mountainous area near his parents’ house in Canadensis.

In the month since the attack, a manhunt involving more than 1,000 law enforcement officers has been combing a 5-square mile of rugged mountain terrain where they believe Frein is holed up.

They think Frein made a big mistake, the biggest of several mistakes when he swamped his Jeep. They say Frein also goofed when he on his cell phone for just a moment, allowing them to narrow their search area using the cell’s signal. They also found caches of food, homemade bombs and a journal hastily written by Frein and describing an account of the Jeep accident.

But what if they’re wrong? What if Frein intended to do these things?

The state police alternatively describe him as an accomplished outdoorsman who’s leading them in an elaborate game of hide-and-seek; and as a bumbling college dropout prone to flights of cold-war fancy and tactical mistakes.

He can’t be both, can he?

Consider the example of Eric Rudolph. Rudolph was the antigovernment survivalist who detonated a bomb at the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta before he disappeared into the Smoky Mountains of North Carolina. It nearly five years to catch Rudolph, an FBI agent said last week, reminding reporters that Rudolph, like Frein, had been believed to be hiding in a five-square-mile area.

Perhaps Frein is neither bumbling nor brilliant. Maybe he’s more like bigfoot after all — He’s either the master of deception, or he doesn’t exist at all.

Whatever his mental state or his motives, the cost of the manhunt already has mounted into the millions of dollars, plus there’s the moral cost of lost tourist and hunter dollars to the region that depends on both revenue sources.

The prospect of a long search for a cop killer has no appeal to anyone.

Each day that passes without the capture of Frein adds pressure on the state and its law enforcement community to stay focused, remain determined and fight temptation to lose hope.

Eric Frein probably remains in the target area, although it must be admitted he could be anywhere. Eventually he will turn up, although that might not be anytime soon. He must be brought to justice.