He was calculating his chances of finding the Delaware's
trail far on the other side. Indian woodcraft, subtle, wonderful as
it may be, is limited to each Indian's ability. Savages, as well as
other men, were born unequal. One might leave a faint trail through
the forest, while another could be readily traced, and a third, more
cunning and skillful than his fellows, have flown under the shady
trees, for all the trail he left. But redmen followed the same
methods of woodcraft from tradition, as Wetzel had learned after
long years of study and experience.
And now, satisfied that he had divined the Delaware's intention, he
slipped down the bank of the ravine, and once more broke into a run.
He leaped lightly, sure-footed as a goat, from stone to stone, over
fallen logs, and the brawling brook. At every turn of the ravine, at
every open place, he stopped to listen.
Arriving on the other side of the ridge, he left the ravine and
passed along the edge of the rising ground. He listened to the
birds, and searched the grass and leaves. He found not the slightest
indication of a trail where he had expected to find one. He retraced
his steps patiently, carefully, scrutinizing every inch of the
ground. But it was all in vain. Wingenund had begun to show his
savage cunning. In his warrior days for long years no chief could
rival him.
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