All that evening The Crane was very silent and downcast, and I came to know that he considered that this was our last trip together. To his mind, the Great Spirit would never allow me to come back from that hunt against the Mighty One. The Ghost Hills were sacred, and were about to be impiously profaned. Indeed, since that meeting of the Council we had come in for no small share of reverence from all the warriors, who held that we were bravely going to our deaths. I learned later that it had been decided that the Yellow Lily should become the adopted daughter of the tribe, should we fail to return.
Early in the morning the three of us left our brush shelter and started forth, determined to avoid the disgrace of returning to the village empty-handed. Now we circled back toward the south again, overlooking no patch of woods where elk or deer might be sheltering. The morning was still young when we came to a break of heavy-laden pines, and started through them warily. Suddenly a cry from Wapistan, at one side, called us to him.
"Come quickly!"
We found him standing in the midst of some bushes, where the snow had been kicked away in a wide circle, affording access to the tender green shoots beneath. But there was no expression of joy on his face, and as we came up The Crane halted abruptly.
"Let us go away quickly," he muttered. I was amazed at this, for it was plain to me that here was the bed of a moose, and I stared at the two men until Wapistan led me over to the side of the little clearing.
"Let my brother look upon the tracks of the Mighty One," was all he said. There before me were such tracks as I had never seen—great imprints of sharp hoofs that could only have been made by the giant moose which had attacked us in the beginning. I have hunted many moose, since then, but never have I found such a trail as that.
"Listen, Uchichak," I said, trembling with eagerness. "If he is the Mighty One, he must have been sent to us, for we are far from the Hills. Let us follow. I will hunt him, you need not."
"The Mighty One walks on the storm," murmured The Crane, glancing around apprehensively. None the less, my words had impressed him. "We will see whither the tracks lead. It may be that the Great Spirit has sent him to his children. He may lead us to a herd of elk. We will follow a little way."
And therein was the beginning of our strange pilgrimage.
Without delay we started out, Wapistan leading and Uchichak bringing up the rear. The great caution displayed by these hunters told me more than any words could have done that our quest was a dangerous one. With bows strung and ready, every aisle of the forest was searched ahead of us, and with every crack of sticks and trees in the great frost I could see Wapistan spring to alertness. But all around us was nothing save the deathly silence, through which the frost-crackles and the "sluff-sluff" of our snowshoes sounded loud.