"I like it not," merely remarked the Indian youth.
All four of them now got down to the work of examining the trail. Every bit of turf, every leaf or broken twig was carefully examined. Then they cautiously followed the trail, with bent figures and cocked rifles. At any moment they might be ambushed, if it should prove to be an enemy that had passed that way.
"Why do you suspect that it is an enemy, when we are so near the hunting-grounds of the Oneidas and the Mohicans?" asked Red Feather.
"Look! This no Iroquois moccasin," said the Young Eagle, stooping to pick up a worn-out, discarded moccasin, worked with beads after the pattern of the French Indians.
They clustered round this piece of evidence, which seemed incontestable, for a rude attempt had been made to work even the Lilies of France on the discarded footgear.
When they had finished their scrutiny of this moccasin, one word broke from all their lips--
"Algonquins!"
But what were the fiends doing here, so far from the River of Canada? And how many of them had come from across the lakes?
These were the questions they set themselves to settle next, as they continued their keen search for any little trifle which might help to explain these things, for to the Indian the forest is an open book, and every twig and leaf may be a written page.
They followed the trail cautiously for another quarter of an hour, until they came to a spot where the footprints showed more deeply in the soft black earth, and after another careful examination, Swift Arrow declared that there were at least fifteen or twenty of the enemy, and that they must be a war party, out for scalps, and to harass the enemies of the Canadas.