Still on his knees, he looked up, and Robert saw the light of discovery in the dusky eyes.
"What do you read there, Tayoga?" he asked.
"That I do not know, save as it concerns one."
"Five were of the Indian race, but of what tribe I cannot say, but the sixth was a white man."
"A Frenchman. It certainly can't be De Courcelles, because we've left him far behind, and I hope it's not St. Luc. Maybe it's Jumonville, De Courcelles' former comrade. Still, it doesn't seem likely that any of the Frenchmen would be with so small a band."
"It is not one of the Frenchmen, and the white man was not with the band."
"Now you're growing too complex for my simple mind, Tayoga. I don't understand you."
"It is one trail, but the Indians and the white man did not pass over it at the same time. The Indian imprints were made seven or eight hours ago, those of the white man but an hour or so since. Stoop down, Great Bear, and you will see that it is true."
"You're right, Tayoga," said Willet, after examining minutely.
"It follows, then," said the young Onondaga, in his precise tones, "that the white man was following the red men."
"And you will notice, Great Bear, and you, too, Dagaeoga, that the white man's moccasin has made a very large imprint. The owner of the foot is big. I know of none other in the forest so big except the Great Bear himself."
"Black Rifle!" exclaimed Robert, with a flash of insight.
"And he's following on the trail of these Indians, intending to ambush them when they camp tonight. He hunts them as we would hunt wolves."
Robert shuddered a little. It was a time when human life was held cheap in the wilderness, but he could not bring himself to slay except in self-defense.
"We need Black Rifle," said Willet, "and they'll need him more at the fort. We've an hour of fair sunlight left, and we must follow this trail as fast as we can and call him back. Lead the way, Tayoga."
The young Onondaga, without a word, set out at a running walk, and the others followed close behind. It was a plain trail. Evidently the warriors had no idea that they were followed, and the same was true of Black Rifle. Tayoga soon announced that both pursuers and pursued were going slowly, and, when the last sunlight was fading, they stopped at the crest of a hill and called, imitating first the cry of a wolf, and then the cry of an owl.