The snow had ceased and they made a light and lit a couple of cedar boughs for torches. By examining the ground they came upon the tracks of four red men, who had moved off in the direction of the lower valley, leading the two horses between them.
"Let us follow them," said Mark, without hesitation. "We ought to be able to bring them to terms with the gun and the pistol."
Now that he felt a little better, Josiah Socket was willing, and keeping their torches shaded somewhat, they followed the newly-made trail through the forest and down into the valley a distance of two miles. It was now growing light in the east, telling that the dawn of a new day was at hand.
"I see them!" cried Mark, presently. "Put out that torch." And he threw his own down in the snow and stamped upon it. His companion speedily followed his example, and both leaped to the shelter of some bushes.
The Indians were at rest, having traveled probably the whole of the day before and being worn out. They sat in the shelter of some trees, with the horses and their packs close by.
What to do next Josiah Socket and Mark scarcely knew. But they were determined to get back their belongings even if it cost them something to do it.
"Mr. Socket, haven't I heard you whistle to those horses?" asked Mark, in a whisper.
"Certainly—I often call 'em that way. Learnt it to 'em when they was colts."
"Would they come if you whistled to them now?"
"I think so."