"Silence!" cried the scout. "Seek her, boy!"
The dog put his nose to the earth and began to run to and fro in an erratic manner over the ground, until he struck the scent he sought. This done, he gave a short yelp and struck into a slow trot, which the woodmen could easily keep up with, and started for the forest to the north. They slung their rifles and started upon the trail of the dog, which led into a forest-path. Keeping just far enough behind so that they could keep him in sight, they soon were in the dense forest. The Yankee took the lead with a stride which even the agile savage found it difficult to keep up with at a walk, and he took the long lope so characteristic to his race, and kept close to the heels of the Yankee. Will Floyd, dogged and determined, kept on after them, though it cost him more of an effort than either of the others. On, on, the forest growing deeper at every stride, the dog accommodating his pace to that of the men following, and looking back from time to time, to see that they had not lost him.
"That is a noble dog," said Floyd. "You must give him to me if we succeed."
"I couldn't do that, cap. Wolf and I are old friends. It's seven year now we hev tramped the woods together; but he's gitting old now, the old dorg is."
"How many Indians do you think the captors of Madge number?"
"Six," replied Long Seth, laconically.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I know it," was the somewhat dogmatic reply. "I ain't going to give any better reason."
"Is Willimack with them?"