"There's no telling how many rivermen that fellow has murdered," he thought to himself, "and he tried his bloody work once too often. So that's one snake out of our path! If the current only swept his body away, our friend Blacknose will be in a pretty wonder as to what became of him."
The trail was steeper now, and he clambered up painfully after Audubon. At last, fearing lest his senses slip away altogether, he sank down on a huge root.
"Do you look for the tree," he said as the other turned. "I must rest a moment."
With an anxious glance at his white face, Audubon nodded and broke into the trees, for they were already on the knoll. Norton leaned back, faint and giddy, and as his eyes fell on the trail he noted idly that it was hard rocky soil, indented with the unmistakable marks of horseshoes. In his present state of mind this conveyed nothing to him; a settler might have passed along by the trail, or any wandering pedlar might have made the tracks.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, utterly relaxing himself and grateful for the brief rest. He seemed to ache all over, and for almost the first time in His life his whole body seemed wearied and fatigued. A strange lassitude had come over him.
"Norton!"
At the excited whisper he opened his eyes and sat up, to see Audubon peering through the bushes, finger on lip. The other beckoned hastily.
"Come in here! Be cautious."
Already refreshed by his rest, Norton crept into the bushes. Audubon's excited eagerness put him on the alert at once, and he stole after the other with all the silent care of an Indian. Reaching a densely overgrown covert, Audubon paused and held up a hand, listening. From above there came a low trilling bird-song, but Norton could make out nothing else.
"What is it, man? What did you find?"