Just as the sun was setting, the triumvirate reached a small stream which dashed and foamed directly across the trail. They halted a moment to slake their thirst, and the hunter arose and moved forward again. But Graham made it a point to search at every halting place for guiding signs, and he called out to his companions to wait a moment.
“Time is too precious,” replied he, “and you won’t find any thing here.”
“Won’t find any thing here, eh? Just come and look at this.”
The hunter stepped back over the stones in the brook, and with Haverland approached Graham. The latter pointed to a broad, flat stone at his feet. Upon it was scratched, with some softer stone, the following words:—
“Hurry forward. There are six Indians, and they have got Ina with them. They don’t suspect you are following them, and are hurrying up for the village. I think we will camp two or three miles from here. Make the noise of the whipporwil when you want to do the business, and I will understand.
Yours, respectfully,
Seth Jones.”
“If I warn’t afraid the imps would hear it, I would vote three cheers for that Jones,” exclaimed Haldidge, “he’s a trump whoever he is.”
“You may depend upon that,” added Graham, “for what little I saw of him was sufficient to show me that.”
“Let me see,” repeated the hunter, again reading the writing upon the stone, “he says they will encamp two or three miles from here. The sun has now set, but we shall have light for over an hour yet, sufficient to guide us. It’s best for us to be moving forward, as there is no time to spare.”