He was sure that he would find the pair along the creek, and not far distant.

The wind was in his favour, and he began to advance with greater caution, his rifle ready for the anticipated moment.

For an hour he travelled steadily and quietly, marking every sound and movement ahead of him, and wetting his finger now and then to see if the wind had shifted.

After all, it was not so much a matter of human cunning.

Everything was in Challoner's favour.
In a wide, flat part of the valley where the creek split itself into a dozen little channels, and the water rippled between sandy bars and over pebbly shallows, Neewa and his mother were nosing about lazily for a breakfast of crawfish.