The warrior did every thing he could, stepping as lightly as a fawn, his shoulders bending low, while he scrutinized the leaves with a minuteness which would have detected a pin lying on top of them. A faint trail leading through the wilderness is sometimes plainer a few steps distant than it is beneath one's own feet. The disturbance of the vegetation, the rumpling of the leaves resulting in the turning of the under side toward the sun, and those trifling disarrangements which you or I would never notice, can be identified by what may be called an off-hand scrutiny, possibly on the same principle that a careless glance at Pleiades will reveal each of the seven stars, when if the gaze is fixed on the matchless group, one of them modestly shrinks from view.
There was no artifice known to the aboriginal brain which was not called into use by the Sauk warrior. He stepped with the utmost care, so as to disturb the leaves as little as possible. First of all, he gave his attention to the space between the log and the river. That was short, and its examination required but a brief time. Hay-uta seemed to suspect that the trail would be found to lead toward the stream, but he was disappointed, as not the slightest trace was discovered. I may as well say that though the scrutiny was continued for half an hour, and embraced a complete circle around the spot where the hat was found, it resulted in no success at all. The conclusion was inevitable—so long a time had passed since it was thrown to the ground, that every vestige of the footprints had been obliterated.
Finally Hay-uta straightened up, and, looking in the expectant face of Jack, shook his head. "I was afraid of it," said the boy, "so many days have passed since he lost it, that nothing is left but to guess how it all came about—and though I've done all the thinking I know how, I am done."
Such was the fact. How it was that Otto Relstaub had come to leave his hat lying there on the leaves was beyond the power of Jack Carleton to tell. It could hardly be that he had done so voluntarily, for it was impossible to conceive of a reason for it, and the probability that some one else was the cause, only intensified those misgivings which, in a greater or less degree, had tormented the young Kentuckian from the hour he started to hunt for his missing friend.
CHAPTER XXIII.
RECROSSING THE RIVER.
During the time occupied in the scrutiny of the surroundings, Jack Carleton forgot all about the river for which they had set out to watch for the returning Pawnees. Though the Sauk most likely kept it in mind, yet he was so occupied that he gave it no attention. Now, that he was relieved, however, he advanced the few yards required, and took a survey of the river as it swept past.
It so happened that he was just in time, for the canoe which had caused such a stir earlier in the day was returning. It was two hundred yards up stream, and was loaded to its utmost capacity with Indian warriors. There were fully a dozen, and the craft was sunk to its gunwales—so much so indeed that the two who were handling the paddles were forced to use care to escape swamping.
The Sauk thought that probably other Indians were swimming alongside or behind the craft, but a brief study of the water convinced him that such was not the case: all the Pawnees who were coming over to push the campaign were in the boat. It would seem that a dozen brave and well armed warriors were sufficient to combat the force on the other side.