"What's up now?" asked the hunter.
"Track gone."
"But I see plenty in front of us."
"White man's not there—gone."
A minute examination revealed the fact that most of the impressions were now made by persons passing backward as well as forward, as though confusion had arisen from some cause. O'Hara suspected the reason of this, but, without venturing an opinion, questioned his dusky friend:
"Huntin' for tracks," he answered. "White man gone."
The two now walked slowly backward, their gaze wandering along the sides of the ravine instead of the bottom. In a moment the quick eye of the Indian discerned the spot where he judged the exit had been made, and a short examination proved that he was right. The feet of Dernor had sunk deep in the soft earth as he made his Herculean efforts in the ascent, while those of his pursuers were so light that they hardly disturbed them.
Up out of the ravine came the Huron and hunter, and into the woods they plunged, following the trail now with the greatest readiness. A short distance further they reached the banks where Edith had concealed herself, and here, for a time, even the red-skin was at fault. He saw that the shrubbery had been passed by most of the pursuers without their having approached closely enough to make an examination. From the circuit which Dernor had made to reach these bushes, the quick-witted Huron rightly suspected that he had turned them to some account. Accordingly, he cautiously parted them and looked in. An immediate "Ugh!" showed O'Hara that he had made some discovery.
"Hide gal there—then run on."
"Where is she?"