“But they are gone,” returned the other, “and it behoves us to waste no time. Go, Biarne, let the men spread out—stay!—Is not this the foot of a man who wears a shoe somewhat different from ours?”
“’Tis a savage,” said Biarne, in a tone of great anxiety.
Karlsefin made no reply, and the party being now concentrated, they followed eagerly on, finding the prints of the feet quite plain in many places.
“Unquestionably they have been captured by a savage,” said Leif.
“Ay, and he must have taken Snorro on his shoulder, and made poor Olaf walk alongside,” observed Biarne.
Following the trail with the perseverance and certainty of blood-hounds, they at last came to the deserted encampment on the banks of the rivulet. That it had been forsaken only a short time before was apparent from the circumstance of the embers of the fires still smoking. They examined the place closely and found the little foot-marks of the children, which were quite distinguishable from those of the native children by the difference in the form of the shoes. Soon they came to marks on the bank of the stream which indicated unmistakeably that canoes had been launched there. And now, for the first time, the countenances of Leif and Karlsefin fell.
“You think there is no hope?” asked the latter.
“I won’t say that,” replied Leif; “but we know not what course they have taken, and we cannot follow them on foot.”
“True,” observed Karlsefin, in bitter despondency.
“The case is not so bad,” observed Heika, stepping forward at this point. “You know we have a number of canoes captured from the savages; some of us have become somewhat expert in the management of these. Let a few of us go back and fetch them hither on our shoulders, with provisions for a long journey, and we shall soon be in a position to give chase. They cannot have gone far yet, and we shall be sure to overtake them, for what we lack in experience shall be more than made up by the strength of our arms and wills.”