"In front of us?"
"No, behind us."
"What are they doing?"
"They are following us."
"How many of them?"
"Two, I think."
The friends glanced back involuntarily over their shoulders into the dense blackness of the forest. At one point a single broad shaft of light slid down between two pines and cast a golden blotch upon their track. Save for this one vivid spot all was sombre and silent.
"Do not look round," whispered Du Lhut sharply. "Walk on as before."
"Are they enemies?"
"They are Iroquois."