“Yes, and of course they’ve blinded our trail in the bargain every now and then on the way,” continued Roger, ruefully. “Three separate times did we walk for half a mile in shallow water, and leave the creek on the stones, so there would be no sign left after the sun and wind dried the wet marks. It was the old Indian trick that we know so well.”
“I tried my best to leave a plain track,” added Dick, “but the braves coming behind must have seen me do it, and made sure to cover it.”
“What do you believe Captain Lewis will do about it?” asked Roger, he himself having pondered on this subject without coming to a conclusion.
“When we fail to return to the camp of course they will send some of the men up to look the ground over,” Dick answered, thoughtfully. “The disappearance of the friendly Indian will give them a clew. Then they are apt to find some of the trout that were left behind fastened to the willow withes.”
“I hope they enjoy them,” muttered Roger, with a grimace, for he could not help remembering how his mouth had fairly watered with anticipation of the treat he had expected to have that evening.
“I’ve been wondering, myself, how it came that the Indians overlooked taking the fish,” continued Dick, “and the only thing I can see is that they were so anxious to get on the move before any of the white men came along with those terrible ‘fire-shooting-sticks,’ that they forgot about it.”
“Yes,” Roger added, “and that treacherous chap who guided us into the trap was so taken up looking over your gun, which Waller had turned over to him, that he forgot all about the fish, too. Well, I hope they are found, and will make a fine supper for the men.”
“It has clouded up, and looks a little as if we might have a storm of some kind before morning breaks,” went on Dick.
“More trouble if that happens,” grumbled the other, glancing up at the heavens to verify his comrade’s statement.