The new day found Seth sorely tired, and suffering from hunger and loss of sleep, but far from despondent. He knew pretty well in what direction to steer in order to reach the rendezvous, and he at once set off, for the wolves had slunk away with the night, and he had nothing more to fear from them.
He pushed forward as rapidly as the nature of the ground permitted, keeping a keen lookout in every direction for either friends or enemies, and hoping as strongly to meet the first as to avoid the second.
The morning had well advanced, however, before anything that resembled a fellow-being crossed his vision, and then he was somewhat startled by catching a glimpse of a human form several hundred yards distant.
"Can that be an Indian or a Canadian?" he asked himself, "and I wonder if he's alone."
He could not answer his own question, but he could take to cover, and this he did instantly, muttering,
"That fellow may think I've not seen him, and come right on, and if he does I'll finish him."
With his nerves strung to the highest tension, Seth crouched behind the trunk of a big tree and strove to follow the movements of the other man without exposing himself to the risk of a bullet from his gun.
Not the snapping of a dry branch nor the rustling of dead leaves betrayed his approach, and Seth at last, unable to stand the strain any longer, with infinite caution peered around the protecting tree.
This action nearly cost him his life, for the instant his head appeared the report of a gun rang out and a bullet, striking with a wicked thud, buried itself in the trunk not more than an inch from his head. It was a close shave with a vengeance, but it did not daunt Seth.
"A miss is as good as a mile," he soliloquized philosophically, and feeling safe now until his antagonist should have time to reload, he sought his chance to return the compliment.