“No; not for your lives!”
“What then, captain?”
“Let him take it, and go,” was Seguin’s reply.
“Why, captain? what’s that for?”
“Fools! do you not see that the whole tribe would be back upon our trail before midnight? Are you mad? Let him go. He may not notice our tracks, as our horses are not shod. If so, let him go as he came, I tell you.”
“But how, captain, if he squints yonder-away?”
Garey, as he said this, pointed to the rocks at the foot of the mountain.
“Sac-r–r–ré! the Digger!” exclaimed Seguin, his countenance changing expression.
The body lay on a conspicuous point, on its face, the crimson skull turned upward and outward, so that it could hardly fail to attract the eye of anyone coming in from the plain. Several coyotes had already climbed up on the slab where it lay, and were smelling around it, seemingly not caring to touch the hideous morsel.
“He’s bound to see it, captain,” added the hunter.