CHAPTER XVII
A LONELY CABIN
CORPORAL BRACKNELL and Sibou had left the hunting camp of the tribe two days and were following the trail of the white man and the two Indians who had visited it more than a week before. The trail, though it was old, was well defined, for there had been no fall of snow in the interval, and the frozen surface of the wilderness kept the trail fresh, and made it easy to follow. It was evident to both of them that their quarry travelled fast, for the distances between the camping places were greater than was usual, and it was clear that those whom they followed had some need for haste. What it could be the corporal could only guess, and guessing under the circumstances was not a very profitable occupation. And there were other signs which gave room for speculation. Now and again the party ahead of them had halted for a little time, and two of the men had left the dogs and the sled, as their tracks showed. These halting places, as the corporal was quick to observe, always occurred when some small stream fell into the main river, or when some accessible gully or creek opened from the banks.
“What do you make of it, Sibou?” he asked when they had reached the fifth halting place of this sort.
The Indian who had followed the tracks of two of the gullies to the point where they reversed glanced at those which now lay before them. Then he waved a mittened hand.
“These men be looking for something.”
“Or some one!” commented the corporal thoughtfully.
The Indian gave a grave inclination of his head. “It is not good to follow every trail,” he said in his own tongue. “Sometime perhaps we shall find a trail that does not return on itself, then we know they find what they seek and we follow.”
“Yes,” answered the corporal, “that is the best way, I think. We will push on and not waste time on these excursions.”