as if he were drawing lines and figures with his curving nose, which
slowly circled around and back and forth. At the same time the palm
of his right hand gently moved over the leaves, touching them as
lightly as the falling snowflakes, and with as wonderful delicacy as
that of the blind reader, when his fingers are groping over the
raised letters of the Book of Life.

The young Kentuckian from his place of concealment smiled to
himself.

"There are some things which even a Shawanoe, cannot do, and that's
one of them."

Such was the fact; for, with that care which the trained pioneer
never permits himself to forget or disregard, the lad had adopted
every artifice at his command to add to the difficulty of
identifying his footsteps.

The warrior straightened up with an impatient "Ugh!" which brought
another smile to the face of the watcher, for it proved beyond
question the failure of his foes.

The Shawanoe, however, had established one fact--the overrunning of
the trail. The one for whom they were searching had left the path
at some point behind them. Scant chance was there of learning the
precise spot.

"Follow me if you can," was the exultant thought of Jack, who
carefully lowered the hammer of his rifle. "I'm glad that as the
painter was determined on picking a quarrel with me he did not do it