The man's broad breast rose and fell a little
faster; that was the only evidence of exertion. The lad had a
painful feeling that he could never keep pace with the hunter, if
this five-mile run was a sample of the speed he would be forced to
maintain.
"They've got ahead of us, but which crick did they take?" queried
Wetzel, as though debating the question with himself.
"How do you know they've passed?"
"We circled," answered Wetzel, as he shook his head and pointed into
the bushes. Joe stepped over and looked into the thicket. He found a
quantity of dead leaves, sticks, and litter thrown aside, exposing
to light a long, hollowed place on the ground. It was what would be
seen after rolling over a log that had lain for a long time. Little
furrows in the ground, holes, mounds, and curious winding passages
showed where grubs and crickets had made their homes. The frightened
insects were now running round wildly.
"What was here? A log?"
"A twenty-foot canoe was hid under thet stuff. The Injuns has taken
one of these streams."
"How can we tell which one?"
"Mebbe we can't; but we'll try. Grab up a few of them bugs, go below
thet rocky point, an' crawl close to the bank so you can jest peep
over. Be keerful not to show the tip of your head, an' don't knock
nothin' off'en the bank into the water.
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