Thus admonished, the three set rapidly forward again, the hunter taking the lead as before. The pursuit was kept up without halting until near noon. Conscious that they were rapidly gaining upon the fugitives, it was necessary to proceed with the extremest caution. The breaking of a twig, the falling of a leaf, startled and arrested their steps, and not a word was exchanged except in the most careful whisper. Haldidge was some dozen yards in advance, and the eyes of his companions were upon him, when they saw him suddenly pause and raise his hand as a signal for them to halt. They did so, and stooping downward, he commenced examining the leaves before him. A moment sufficed. He turned and motioned his two companions forward.
“Just as I feared,” he moodily exclaimed in a half whisper.
“What’s the matter?” asked Haverland anxiously.
“The two trails join here,” he answered.
“Are you not mistaken?” asked Haverland, knowing that he was not, and yet catching at the faintest hope held out to him.
“No, sir; there’s no mistake. Instead of three Indians, we’ve got over forty to follow up now.”
“Shall we do it?”
“Shall we do it? of course we shall; it’s the only chance of ever getting a sight of Ina again.”
“I know so, and yet the hope is so faint; they must know we are in pursuit, and what can we do against ten times our number?”
“No telling yet; come, strike ahead again.”