“Why, them boots as had two hearts on the soles went that way, and I’m going to follow if I go to thunder!” He waited to hear no more, or to speak more, but bounded off to the westward.
He had been gone perhaps an hour, when Fall-leaf, the Indian scout already referred to, entered the camp. He was soon made aware of the state of things. Fall-leaf was deeply attached to Captain Hayward, and, more especially so to his fair sister, Mamie. The scout had been but a short time in camp, when he had given to the General all the information he possessed with regard to the enemy. This done, he followed on the trail fast as possible.
For several hours Nettleton kept on his course, now striking the main road for the purpose of searching for fresh tracks, then taking to the woods again, to avoid observation. Several times he came upon the well-known footprints, and a bitter exclamation would escape him. He kept his course, more from the judgment he had formed as to the direction Walker had taken, than from the numerous impressions of his boots. He was ascending a sharp and ragged hill, so heavily covered with the thorn-bush and small scrub-oak peculiar to that country, that his progress was rendered very difficult. Suddenly a figure darted in front of him and concealed itself among the thick undergrowth. Nettleton brought his gun to the shoulder, and called out:
“None of that skulking, darn ye! Come out and fight fair!”
“Ugh!” responded the voice, and Fall-leaf bounded to his side.
“Oh! it’s you, is it, Mr. Ingen? Well, I’m darn glad you’ve come, for you can hunt these snarly woods better than me! Any news?”
“You kill ’em—eh?”
“I shall kill ’em, if I only get a bead on the critter!”
“You did kill ’em?”
“Kill who?”