That is the print of a moccasin, said Drake.
Is it a Salamanque? ejaculated Cahoonshee.
I think not, said Quick. It is a new track to me. It is neither Salamanque or Delaware. Here, Drake, look at it with your young eyes.
Drake got down on his knees and examined it for several minutes. Then rising, called Rolla.
Cahoonshee, said Drake, did you ever see the print of a moccasin worn by a Stockbridge? If my memory serves me right, the print was made by one of the tribe that stole me from my parents. For what purpose are they in these parts?
Cahoonshee then examined the tracks.
It is many years since I have seen a Stockbridge or their tracks, but I think Drake is right. You fell the tree, and Rolla and I will follow the trail and learn their number. You, Quick, go to the top of the bluff and keep a good lookout for the enemy, for such I take them to be. You boys plug the hole and chop the tree down.
Tom climbed the tree, carrying with him a quantity of moss dipped in tar, and plastered it over the hole, thus effectively preventing the bees from coming out. Then returning to the ground, he and Drake went vigorously to work to chop the tree down.
About this time Cahoonshee returned and reported that there were five Indians in the party, and were going towards the Mongaup.