Hawk-eye and the Mohicans now applied themselves to their task in good earnest. A circle of a few hundred feet in circumference was drawn, and each of the party took a segment for his portion. The examination, however, resulted in no discovery. The impressions of footsteps were numerous, but they all appeared like those of men who had wandered about the spot, without any design to quit it. Again the scout and his companions made the circuit of the halting-place, each slowly following the other, until they assembled in the centre, once more, no wiser than when they started.
“Such cunning is not without its deviltry?” exclaimed Hawk-eye, when he met the disappointed looks of his assistants. “We must get down to it, Sagamore, beginning at the spring, and going over the ground by inches. The Huron shall never brag in his tribe that he has a foot which leaves no print!”
Setting the example himself, the scout engaged in the scrutiny with renewed zeal. Not a leaf was left unturned. The sticks were removed, and the stones lifted–for Indian cunning was known frequently to adopt these objects as covers, labouring with the utmost patience and industry, to conceal each footstep as they proceeded. Still, no discovery was made. At length Uncas, whose activity had enabled him to achieve his portion of the task the soonest, raked the earth across the turbid little rill which ran from the spring, and diverted its course into another channel. So soon as its narrow bed below the dam was dry, he stooped over it with keen and curious eyes. A cry of exultation immediately announced the success of the young warrior. The whole party crowded to the spot, where Uncas pointed out the impression of a moccasin in the rich and moist alluvion.
“The lad will be an honour to his people!” said Hawk-eye, regarding the trail with as much admiration as a naturalist would expend on the tusk of a mammoth, or the rib of a mastoden; “ay, and a thorn in the sides of the Hurons. Yet that is not the footstep of an Indian! the weight is too much on the heel, and the toes are squared, as though one of the French dancers had been in, pigeon-winging his tribe! Run back, Uncas, and bring me the size of the singer’s foot. You will find a beautiful print of it just opposite yon rock, ag’in the hill side.”
While the youth was engaged in this commission, the scout and Chingachgook were attentively considering the impressions. The measurements agreed, and the former unhesitatingly pronounced that the footstep was that of David, who had, once more, been made to exchange his shoes for moccasins.
“I can now read the whole of it, as plainly as if I had seen the arts of le Subtil,” he added; “the singer, being a man whose gifts lay chiefly in his throat and feet, was made to go first, and the others have trod in his steps, imitating their formation.”
“But,” cried Duncan, “I see no signs of–”
“The gentle ones,” interrupted the scout; “the varlet has found a way to carry them, until he supposed he had thrown any followers off the scent. My life on it, we see their pretty little feet again, before many rods go by.”
The whole party now proceeded, following the course of the rill, keeping anxious eyes on the regular impressions. The water soon flowed into its bed again, but watching the ground on either side, the foresters pursued their way, content with knowing that the trail lay beneath. More than half a mile was passed, before the rill rippled close around the base of an extensive and dry rock. Here they paused to make sure that the Hurons had not quitted the water.
It was fortunate they did so. For the quick and active Uncas soon found the impression of a foot on a bunch of moss, where it would seem an Indian had inadvertently trodden. Pursuing the direction given by this discovery, he entered the neighbouring thicket, and struck the trail, as fresh and obvious as it had been before they reached the spring. Another shout announced the good fortune of the youth to his companions, and at once terminated the search.
“Ay, it has been planned with Indian judgment,” said the scout, when the party was assembled around the place; “and would have blinded white eyes.”
“Shall we proceed?” demanded Heyward.
“Softly, softly; we know our path, but it is good to examine the formation of things. This is my schooling, major; and if one neglects the book, there is no better chance of learning from the open hand of Providence, than yon idle boy has with an old gal. All is plain but one thing, which is, the manner that the knave contrived to get the gentle ones along the blind trail. Even a Huron would be too proud to let their tender feet touch the water.”
“Will this assist in explaining the difficulty?” said Heyward, pointing towards the fragments of a sort of hand-barrow, that had been rudely constructed of boughs, and bound together with withes, and which now seemed carelessly cast aside as useless.
“’Tis all explained!” cried the delighted Hawk-eye. “If them varlets have passed a minute, they have spent hours in striving to fabricate a lying end to their trail! Well, I’ve known them waste a day in the same manner, to as little purpose. Here we have three pair of moccasins, and two of little feet. It is amazing that any mortal beings can journey on limbs so small! Pass me the thong of buck-skin, Uncas, and let me take the length of this foot. By the Lord, it is no longer than a child’s, and yet the maidens are tall and comely. That Providence is partial in its gifts, for its own wise reasons, the best and most contented of us must allow!”
“The tender limbs of my daughters are unequal to these hardships!” said Munro, looking at the light footsteps of his children with a parent’s love; “we shall find their fainting forms in this desert.”
“Of that there is little cause of fear,” returned the attentive scout, slowly shaking his head; “this is a firm and straight, though a light step, and not over long. See, the heel has hardly touched the ground; and there the dark-hair has made a little jump, from root to root. No, no; my knowledge for it, neither of them was nigh fainting, hereaway. Now, the singer was beginning to be foot-sore and leg-weary, as is plain by his trail. There you see he slipped; here he has travelled wide, and tottered; and there, again, it looks as though he journeyed on snow-shoes. Ay, ay, a man who uses his throat altogether, can hardly give his legs a proper training!”
From such undeniable testimony, did the practised woodsman arrive at the truth, with nearly as much certainty and precision, as if he had been a witness of all those events, which his ingenuity so easily elucidated. Cheered by these assurances, and satisfied by a reasoning that was so obvious, while it was so simple, the party resumed its course, after making a short halt, to take a hurried and slight repast.
When the meal was ended, the scout cast a glance upward at the setting sun, and pushed forward with a rapidity, to equal which compelled Heyward and the still vigorous Munro to exert all their muscles. Their route, now, lay along the bottom which has already been mentioned. As the Hurons had made no further efforts to conceal their footsteps, the progress of the pursuers was no longer delayed by uncertainty. Before an hour had elapsed, however, the speed of Hawk-eye sensibly abated, and his head, instead of maintaing its former direct and forward look, began to turn suspiciously from side to side, as if he were conscious of approaching danger. He soon stopped again, and awaited for the whole party to come up.
“I scent the Hurons,” he said, speaking to the Mohicans; “yonder is open sky, through the tree-tops, and we are getting too nigh their encampment. Sagamore, you will take the hill side, to the right; Uncas will bend along the brook to the left, while I will try the trail. If any thing should happen, the call will be three croaks of a crow. I saw one of the birds fanning himself in the air, just beyond the dead oak–another sign that we are touching an encampment.”
The Indians departed their several ways, without deeming any reply necessary, while Hawk-eye cautiously proceeded with the two gentlemen. Heyward soon pressed to the side of their guide, eager to catch an early glimpse of those enemies he had pursued with so much toil and anxiety. His companion told him to steal to the edge of the wood, which, as usual, was fringed with a thicket, and wait his coming, for he wished to examine certain suspicious signs a little on one side. Duncan obeyed, and soon found himself in a situation to command a view which he found as extraordinary as it was novel.