"Surely," the older boy remarked, as he led the way into the thickest of the neighboring woods.
"But you look unhappy," continued Sandy, who was quick to read the face of his brother. "What worries you now, Bob? Are you positive that Kate is with these Indians? Once or twice a horrible fear has forced itself into my brain that they may have slain her, and hidden her body away somewhere."
"No, no, do not think that!" cried Bob, instantly, though he could not repress the shudder that his brother's gloomy words brought upon him. "I know she is alive, or was when the Indians stepped ashore, for I believe I saw the faint impression of her little moccasin in the earth, almost hidden by the tread of a brave."
"Then what makes you frown and look so black?" demanded Sandy.
"You forget that the day is almost done," the other remarked, significantly.
"To be sure it is," replied Sandy, casting a glance aloft to where glimpses of the sky could be seen through the dense branches of the tall forest trees.
"And that when night comes we shall no longer be able to follow the trail, while those we hunt can keep right on, hour after hour, putting mile after mile between us. That is what makes me bitter," Bob said, even though he did not pause in his onward movement.
"But what is to hinder our securing torches, and continuing on as long as we can put one foot before the other?" demanded his brother.
"An excellent idea, and we must try it," declared Bob, nodding his head as if pleased over this bright thought. "In that way we may at least cut down some of their long lead, which will count sooner or later in our favor."