He searched in every opening under the moonlight for traces of footsteps, which he alone could have seen, and, when at last he found them, Dick, despite the dusk, saw his figure expand and his eyes flash.
He had been kneeling down examining the imprints and when he arose the colonel asked: "What is it, Whitley ?" "Men have passed here, sir, and, as they couldn't have been ours, they were the enemy.

The tracks lead south on the slope, and they must have been going that way to join Slade's command." "Then you think, Sergeant, we should follow this trail ?" "Undoubtedly, sir, but we must look out for an ambush.

These men know the mountains thoroughly, and if we were to walk into their trap they might cut us to pieces." "Then we won't walk into it.

Lead on, Sergeant.

If the enemy is near, I know that you will find him in time." The sergeant's brown face flushed with pride, but he followed on the trail without a word and behind him came the whole regiment, implicit in its trust, and winding without noise like a great coiling serpent through the forest.
Dick was a woodsman himself, and he kept close to the sergeant, watching his methods, and seeking also what he could find.