A few minutes later, they were following up the ravine, on a sort of half-run, the Huron leading the way, and evincing, at nearly every step, that remarkable quickness of sight and comprehension so characteristic of his race. Suddenly he paused so abruptly that O'Hara ran against him.
"What the deuce is the matter?" he asked, rubbing his nose.
"Look!"
Several dark drops of blood were visible on the ground which was also torn up by the feet of the combatants. As the reader probably suspects, this was the scene of the conflict between Dernor and the Miami Indian.
"See," said Oonamoo, walking slowly around, and pointing to the ground. "Track of Injin—track of white man—tear up ground—fight—till Injin killed. White man then run—see him tracks there, there, there," he added, pointing further and further from him as he uttered each of the last three words.
"But where's the gal?"
The Huron pointed to the spot where Edith had stood spell-bound while the contest was going on. O'Hara, although a skillful backwoodsman, was not equal to his savage companion; but he saw at once, from the dainty impress of the earth, that he was correct in supposing that Edith had stood there. They now resumed their pursuit, the hunter bringing all his wood-craft into play, in order to keep up with his companion.
"I can't see her tracks to save my life," said the former, after they had proceeded some distance.
"Him carry her," replied the savage, without the least hesitation.
"Hang me if you haven't got about as much brains as a person needs in these parts," muttered O'Hara, admiringly, as he imitated the monotonous trot of the savage. A moment later and he paused again.