"What makes you think so?"
"Gal bring him back—not leave her!"
"You're right. He won't forget she is behind him. But how is he going to throw the dogs off the scent?"
"How t'row white men off scent, eh?"
"I understand—by taking to the water."
"Take to water agin."
As the Huron spoke, they came upon the edge of a second brook—one, in fact, large enough to be called a creek. The trail led directly into this, it being manifest that Dernor had so shaped his flight as to reach it.
"I will cross over and examine the opposite side, while you do the same along this shore."
"No, won't," replied Oonamoo, with a decided shake of his head. "White man no cross—gal behind him—come out on this side agin."
The savage was so certain of this, that he refused even to allow O'Hara to enter the stream. A moment's reflection convinced him, also, that the supposition was correct, and they commenced their ascent of the bank. They had gone scarcely a dozen steps, when they came upon numerous moccasin-tracks, showing that, if the pursuers had crossed the creek, they had also returned. At this discovery, Oonamoo indulged in a characteristic exclamation: