"I was sure of it," he said, rising almost immediately; "it is the Comanches; but they are not following a full track—they are hesitating."
"Or perhaps their march is retarded by the wound of Eagle Head."
"That's possible! Oh, oh! do they fancy themselves capable of catching us, if we wished to escape from them?"
"Ah! if we were not loaded, that would soon be done."
Loyal Heart reflected a minute.
"Come," he said, "we have still half an hour, and that is more than we want."
A rivulet flowed at a short distance from them; the hunter entered its bed with his companion, who followed all his movements.
When he arrived in the middle of the stream, Loyal Heart carefully wrapped up the traps in a buffalo skin, that no moisture might come to them, and then he allowed them quietly to drop to the bottom of the stream.
This precaution taken, the hunters crossed the rivulet, and made a false trail of about two hundred paces, and afterwards returned cautiously so as not to leave a print that might betray their return. They then re-entered the forest, after having, with a gesture, sent the dogs to the horses. The intelligent animals obeyed, and soon disappeared in the darkness.
This resolution to send away the dogs was useful in assisting to throw the Indians off the track, for they could scarcely miss following the traces left by the bloodhounds in the high grass.