He ran easily, as though accustomed to that mode of travel, and his long strides covered a couple of miles in short order.

Coming to the rugged bluff, which marked the end of the ridge, he stopped and walked slowly along the edge of the water.
He struck the trail of the Indians where it crossed the creek, just where he expected.

There were several moccasin tracks in the wet sand and, in some of the depressions made by the heels the rounded edges of the imprints were still smooth and intact.

The little pools of muddy water, which still lay in these hollows, were other indications to his keen eyes that the Indians had passed this point early that morning.
The trail led up the hill and far into the woods.

Never in doubt the hunter kept on his course; like a shadow he passed from tree to tree and from bush to bush; silently, cautiously, but rapidly he followed the tracks of the Indians.