"It bears that look."

"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.

"It can be none other."

"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.