them that, knowing how useful Nero would be to them in their search,
she had secretly taken a horse and followed them.

The party rode first to Tom Cooper's hut, and there, having dismounted,
leading their horses through the forest, followed the trail, as only men
long accustomed to savage life can do. At night they lay on the ground,
covered with their thick, bear-skin cloaks: for Susan only, they heaped
a bed of dried leaves; but she refused to occupy it, saying, it was her
duty to bear the same hardships they did. Ever since their departure,
she had shown no sign of sorrow. Although slight and delicately formed,
she never appeared fatigued: her whole soul was absorbed in one longing
desire--to find her husband's body; for, from the first, she had
abandoned the hope of ever again seeing him in life. This desire
supported her through everything. Early the next morning they were on
the trail. About noon, as they were crossing a small brook, the hound
suddenly dashed away from them, and was lost in the thicket. At first
they fancied they might have crossed the track of a deer or wolf; but a
long, mournful howl soon told the sad truth, for, not far from the
brook, lay the faithful dog on the dead body of his master, which was
pierced to the heart by an Indian arrow.

The murderer had apparently been afraid to approach on account of the
dogs, for the body was left as it had fallen--not even the rifle was
gone. No sign of Indians could be discovered, save one small footprint,
which was instantly pronounced to be that of a squaw. Susan showed no
grief at the sight of the body: she maintained the same forced calmness,
and seemed comforted that it was found. Old Wilton staid with her to
remove all that now remained of her darling husband, and his two sons
set out on the trail, which soon led them into the open prairie, where
it was easily traced through the tall, thick grass. They continued