It was easy to follow, as every step was marked by blood, which, in many places, was dripping from the bushes to the ground. It was followed but a short distance, however, as it led in a direct line to the river.
“It’s as I s’pected,” said Biddon, turning round in disgust.
“He must have drowned then.”
“Dunno ’bout that. He’s taken to the water to hide his trail, an’ jes’ as like as not some of the other painted heathen have helped him off.”
“No doubt about that. I’ve been thinking that some of them helped off that fellow when I was loading my gun.”
“We mought as well go back agin,” said Biddon. “I’m tired of huntin’ spirits, and I dunno but what we’d better move traps and leave this plagued place to ’em.”
“That’s what I am in favor of—”
Nat suddenly paused, for Biddon, with a slight “sh” motioned us down. We both sank quickly and silently to the earth, while he, in a crouching position, gazed stealthily up-stream.
“What is it, Bill?” whispered Nat.