For two hours they rode in silence, Agnes taking the lead on her piebald pony which was a wonderful traveler in the woods, much more clever and docile than their own horses.
Sometimes the trail was hard to find, but the Indian pony followed his sense of smell and walked on and on.
"We are making good time, thanks to my pony," Agnes said jubilantly. "Come on with your steeds, gentlemen; don't mind it, if they are a little tired."
However, the horses were showing signs of fatigue, since they had not eaten for two days.
"Very well," Agnes said; "look!"
The river made a sweeping bend, and from the high bank they could see the fort.
"Hurrah!" Matthew cried; "how good it is to see the dwellings of white men."
"We shall rest now," Agnes suggested, "and allow the horses their meal. Look at my pony; isn't it a wonder? And it was gotten by just a little trick."
"Yes, tell us the story," Matthew begged.
"Not until the fire is burning, and the meat is cooking, and the horses are eating!" the girl said with a roguish smile.