"How long?"
"Two days at least! the fires are cold."
"I suspected it," said the hunter, as if speaking to himself.
"Oh!" Don Miguel exclaimed, "this demon will constantly escape us."
"Patience," Valentine replied. "Unless he has glided through the river like a fish, or risen in the air like a bird, we shall find his trail again—I swear it."
"But what shall we do?"
"Wait," said the hunter. "It is late, we will pass the night here; tomorrow, at daybreak, we will start in pursuit of our enemy."
Don Miguel sighed, and made no answer. The preparations for a hunter's bivouac are not lengthy. Harry and Eagle-wing lit a fire, unsaddled and hobbled the horses, and then the supper was got ready. With the exception of Don Miguel and his son, who ate but little, though for different reasons, the hunters did honour to the frugal meal, which the fatigues of the day caused them to find delicious. So soon as the supper was over, Valentine threw his rifle on his shoulder, and gave Curumilla a sign to follow him.
"Where are you going?" Don Miguel asked.
"To the isle where the gambusinos' camp was."