He rode on; but he soon learned that following their trail was slow work to a man in the saddle, although the moon was shining. He then took his course by the stars, and rode south at a gallop, believing that he could not go far out of the way, and every minute expecting to overtake his friends.
He rode until the night was half gone, and the moon was down, without seeing a sign of a human being. Sure that he must have overtaken them if he was on the right track, and being greatly fatigued, he deemed it best to camp where he was for the night, and to hunt for the trail in the morning.
He tethered his horses, wrapped himself in his blanket, and laid down to sleep. Thoughts of his missing friends troubled him for a while; but they were soon swallowed up in a deep and dreamless slumber.
CHAPTER VIII.
MARTIN LAURIE’S LITTLE SCHEME.
In the morning Fred Wilder set out to seek for the trail of his companions; but, after a long and careful search, he was unable to find it, and he abandoned the quest in despair. As he had seen or heard nothing of the Blackfeet, he concluded that they had given up the pursuit, and had returned to their village.
The disappearance of the Blackfoot and Flora Robinette was not incomprehensible to him, for it was very likely that he had lost the trail; but he could not help fearing that it was to be attributed to some other cause. It was possible that White Shield had been troubled in conscience concerning the manner in which he had left his tribe, and that he might have gone back to meet the pursuers, hoping to make peace with them by delivering Flora to Good Ax. It was possible, also, that he might have taken a fancy to the fair prize, and that he might have determined to secure her for himself, thus cheating his white brother, as well as his tribe.
Fred Wilder’s manly heart made him reject these unworthy suspicions as fast as they arose in his mind. He could not believe that the Indian, who had sworn brotherhood to him, and who had so thoroughly proved his friendship, would so easily turn traitor. In fact, he felt sure that he could trust him, whatever appearances might be against him. The probability was, Wilder thought, that he had lost their trail, which must lead direct to Mr. Robinette’s rendezvous. Still, it seemed strange that they had not waited for him, or tried to find him, as he supposed they might easily have done.
Stifling his fears as well as he could, he rode toward the south, shaping his course for the rendezvous, where he hoped to find his missing companions.
It was a long journey, and there was not a little peril connected with it; but, by the use of vigilance and caution, he contrived to keep clear of any predatory bands of Indians, and the end of two weeks found him on a stream which he believed to be one of the head branches of Green River.