Glyndon pointed to the trail.
“Here’s what tells me,” he answered. “These Injuns always go single file, and tread in each other’s footsteps to blind their trail, but it would take fifty of ’em, at least, to make so plain a trail. And see there, just at one side, where her foot slipped on the stone, and she stepped out of the trail, heavily, and come near falling—see that broken branch to which she clung to save herself—that tells me there’s a squaw along.”
The boys were filled with wonder.
“And the trail is scarcely cold either,” continued Glyndon, still pursuing his examination. “They passed here less than a half an hour ago, and they’re after us.”
CHAPTER VII.
A DESPERATE ENCOUNTER.
“After us?” repeated Percy Vere, in some consternation.
“Just so,” replied Glyndon, calmly.
“Then we had better git up and ’git,” suggested Percy Cute. “Let’s get back to camp. I wouldn’t mind a scrimmage, but I think fifty against three is a leetle too hefty.”
“We can’t go back the way we came,” answered Glyndon. “They’re between us and the camp now. We’ll have to take to the river the other side of the cliff, and get back that way.”
These words revived the boys’ spirits.