“Young officer, look dah,” he whispered. “No speak loud. Massa Huggin men hear um.”
“Well,” said Murray, “I am looking dah, sir, but there is nothing to see.”
“No see? Caesar see. Massa Huggin men come ’long. Carry Massa Allen, make men foot go down soft. Make mark.”
“Perhaps so,” said Murray, “but I can see nothing.”
“Let him lead on, Mr Murray,” said the lieutenant. “I want to get to business.”
“Caesar show,” whispered the man, and now, walking half doubled and with his hands hanging down, he broke into a trot, closely followed by the party, for another few hundred yards, before stopping short so suddenly that those who followed were on the point of over-running him.
“Massa officer look now,” whispered the black. “Massa no say can’t see now.”
“No: I can see now,” said Murray. “Look here, sir,” he whispered, imitating the cautious utterance of the black, as the lieutenant closed up to him.
“Yes,” said the officer eagerly; “this is real trail. So many seals impressed in the soft boggy soil; all leading off yonder in a fresh direction after evidently making a halt here. You can make it out, Mr Murray, eh?”
“I can make out the footsteps, sir,” replied the lad, “but I can’t say I understand them.”