Curumilla was surveying the ground, and questioning the rock.
"Wah!" he said.
All stopped; the chief pointed to a line about half an inch, of the thickness of a hair, recently made on the rock.
"They have passed this way," Valentine went on, "that is as certain to me as that two and two make four; everything proves it to me; the steps we discovered going away from the spot where we now are—are a sure proof."
"How so?" Don Miguel asked in amazement.
"Nothing is more simple; the traces that deceived you could not humbug an old wood ranger like myself; they pressed too heavily on the heel, and were not regular, proves them false."
"Why false?"
"Of course. This is what Red Cedar did to hide the direction he took; he walked for nearly two leagues backwards."
"You think so?"
"I am sure of it. Red Cedar, though aged, is still possessed of all the vigour of youth; his steps are firm and perfectly regular; like all men accustomed to forest life, he walks cautiously, that is to say, first putting down the point of his foot, like every man who is not certain that he may not have to go back. In the footsteps we saw, as I told you, the heel was put down first, and is much deeper buried than the rest of the foot; that is quite impossible, unless a person has walked backwards, especially for some time."