“There’s but one way to decide it; will you agree to it?” asked the hunter smilingly. The other two expressed their willingness, and he produced his hunting knife. For fear that some of our readers may be apprehensive of the use to which he intended putting it, we will describe his modus operandi at once. Stepping back a pace or two, the hunter took the point of his knife between his thumb and fore finger, and flung it over his head. As it fell to the earth again, the point was turned directly toward the trail of the lesser party.
“Just what I thought,” remarked the hunter with another quiet smile. The mooted question was now settled to the satisfaction of all, and our three friends turned unhesitatingly to the westward upon the trail of the smaller party.
How much sometimes hangs upon the slightest thread! How small is the point upon which great events often turn! The simple fact of the direction in which the blade of the hunting knife remained when it fell, decided the fate of every character in this life drama. Had it pointed to the northward, an hour later the three would have walked into an ambush intended for them, and every one would have been massacred. The hunter was right. Ina Haverland had gone with the smaller party.
CHAPTER XII.
PENCILINGS BY THE WAY.
We have said the hunter was right. By the accidental turning of the hunting knife, he had not only been saved his life, but his efforts had been turned in the right direction.
It must be confessed that Haverland himself had some misgivings about the course which they were taking. He could not believe that the savages were short-sighted enough to place a captive which was secure in their possession, into the hands of one or two of their number, when they were conscious they were pursued. But the decision of the hunting knife could not be appealed from, and in a moody silence he followed in the footsteps of the hunter.
It was now getting far along in the afternoon, and the pursued savages could be at no great distance. Their trail was plain, as no efforts had been made to conceal it; but, although Haldidge strove his utmost to detect signs of Ina’s delicate moccasin, he failed entirely; and was compelled, in spite of the assurance which he manifested at the start, to take some misgivings to himself.
The hunter, notwithstanding the consummate cunning and skill he had shown thus far in tracing up the savages, had made one sad mistake. He had been misled altogether in the number of the smaller party. Instead of three or four Indians, there were six; and, as their trails became visible at intervals, he began to think he had undertaken a more difficult matter than he anticipated. Still, it was no time for halting or faltering, and he strode resolutely forward.