"The Hawk has an eye of which the finest chief might be proud," said Silver Fox. "These men passed in the afternoon of yesterday. There were ten of them."
"And one was less accustomed to shoes than the others," said Steve swiftly. "He was a pale face."
"He was. The Hawk can read the signs as I have already learned. One was a pale face, and he led. They went towards the fort, blazing a new track. They returned across the ice."
There was an exclamation at that from some of the trappers who up till lately had been unacquainted with Silver Fox. But Jim silenced the doubts of his comrades promptly.
"How's that, chief?" he asked in the Mohawk, which all the party understood. "How did you get that reckonin'?"
"Ask the Hawk," was the curt answer. "He read these signs, and he knew how they returned."
"It is easy to guess at their track back, but one cannot say absolutely for sure," smiled Steve. "Look at the tracks of their shoes here, boys. Well, there are no return traces. Yesterday they made in the direction of Fort William, and I guess that they were back at their own quarters before night fell. Remember how cold it was and how it began to blow in the early afternoon."
"It did that," exclaimed one of the men. "The snow was sweeping over the ice on the lakes."
"Just so, and the clouds of snow hid them well. They slipped from the forest on to the ice, and with the wind behind them were almost blown back home, while their traces were covered. Here, in the forest, where the full force of the wind was not so much felt, their tracks are pretty clear. They are home again, boys, and we can do nothing with them to-day. But another time——"