“I’ll endeavor to do my part, although I shall expect some aid from you.”
“I may give some, as I can tell purty near about when the imps have gone over the tracks I’m looking at. And now we must start. I promised Haverland that I wouldn’t show myself again, until I could tell him something about his darter, and I swow, I won’t. Come ahead!”
With these words, Seth started ahead on a rapid walk. He was slightly inclined forward, and his keen gray eye was bent with a searching look upon the ground. Graham followed him a few feet distant, with the barrel of his rifle resting in the hollow of his left arm, while the stock was held in his right so as to be ready at a moment’s warning.
The signs that led Seth Jones forward were faint, and to an ordinary observer, invisible. The Indians, although they had little fears of pursuit, were yet too cunning and experienced to neglect any caution that would mislead what enemies might be disposed to follow them. They traveled in Indian file, each one stepping in the track of the one before him, so that, judging from the tracks made, it would appear that but a single savage had been journeying in these parts. Ina was compelled to walk in this matter, and more than once when she inadvertently made a misstep, a cruel blow warned her of her task.
Sometimes the leaves, as they lay, appeared perfectly devoid of the slightest depression or disturbance, yet, had one stooped and carefully scrutinized the ground, he would have seen the faint outlines of a moccasin defined upon it, or observed that a leaf had been displaced, or perhaps a slender twig had not yet recovered the position from which it had been forced by the passing of human feet. All these were trifling indications, it is true, yet they were unerring ones to the practiced eye of the hunter, and as plain as the footprints upon the dusty roads. Soon Seth paused, and raising his head, turned toward Graham.
“We are gaining on ’em.”
“Ah—are we? Glad to hear it. When is it probable we shall overtake them?”
“Can’t exactly say, but not for a considerable time yet. They are tramping at a purty good gate, and they only halted last night to rest Iny now and then. Darn ’em! she’ll wan’t rest, I cac’late, more’n once afore she’s done with ’em.”
“Can’t you conjecture their number?”
“There’s somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty of the best warriors of the Mohawks. I can tell that by their tracks.”