In the first dark shadow of the trees Menehwehna checked himself, came to a sudden halt, and swung round, panting. Somehow, although unable to see his face, John knew him to be furiously angry—with the cold fury of an Indian.
"Englishman, you are a fool!"
"But why?" panted John innocently. "Is it the noise I made? I cannot run as you Indians can."
Menehwehna grunted. "What matters noise more or less, when he is anywhere near?"
"They have not seen us!" gasped Barboux, blundering up at this moment and almost into John's arms.
"To be sure," answered Menehwehna sardonically, "they have not seen us. It may even be that the great Manitou has smitten them with deafness and they have not heard you, O illustrious!—and with blindness, that they cannot trace your footmarks; yes, and perchance with folly, too, so that, returning to a dead man whom they left, they may wonder not at all that he has tumbled himself about!"
"Peste! It was this Englishman's fault. He came running behind and hurried me. But you Indians do not know everything. I found—" but here Barboux checked himself on the edge of a boast.
The Indian had sunk on one knee and laid his ear to the ground. "It will be of great price," said he, "if what you found will take us out of this. They are not following as yet, and the water is near."