The party of trappers separated into three small bands at once, Steve watching Jim and Pete march their men away to carry out his instructions. Then he and Mac returned on their old trails, this time at a more reasonable pace, and having discovered their muskets dived into the forest and scouted there so as to make sure that none of the enemy were left. Now and again a far-off musket shot came to their ears, as the rearguard of the retreating force fired at the trappers, and on three or four occasions they came upon the dead bodies of Frenchmen or Indians who had fallen. But for the shots there was silence everywhere, the silence of the virgin forest, till a faint sound came to Mac's ears.
"Sure, it's a groan, so 'tis," he whispered. "Listen to it, sor. It'll be the ghost of one of them poor craturs."
The superstitious Irishman trembled, while beads of perspiration burst out on his forehead despite the lowness of the temperature. He looked scared, and turned appealingly to Steve.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed the latter, emphatically. "Don't talk such rubbish. It must be some injured man. Listen, and then we shall get the direction."
STEVE AND MAC DISCOVER THE WOUNDED FRENCH OFFICER
They stood still for some five minutes, and then at last the same moaning sound came to their ears. Steve promptly turned to his right and set off at a a rapid pace, Mac following with the same scared look on his wrinkled features.
"Tracks of Indians," said Steve suddenly, as he came across the marks of snow-shoes. "They were carrying a wounded man. Look at the spots of blood. Keep your musket handy, Mac, and use it if there is need."
Some fifty yards farther on the two suddenly burst into a tiny clearing, and discovered there the figure of a man, lying propped against a tree, where he had undoubtedly dragged himself, as the marks in the snow plainly showed. He turned as Steve came forward, and the latter recognised him. It was the tall Frenchman who had commanded the attacking party. He was pale and wan, and evidently in great pain.
"Monsieur, I am your prisoner," he said bravely. "I was hit in the thigh, and I think my leg is broken. The Indians who were carrying me tossed me aside for fear that I should delay them."