The ground on the other side of the brook is soft and we shall be able to find his imprints there, even if it were pitch dark.

Now I think they will turn very soon toward the river." "Yes, they're curving.

Here they go, Tayoga." The trail led across a field, over a hill, and then through a little wood, where Tayoga was compelled to go slowly, hunting about like a hound, trying to trace a scent.

But wherever he lost it he finally picked it up again, and, when they emerged from the trees, they saw the river not far ahead.
"Our trail will end at the stream," said Tayoga confidently.
As he had predicted, the imprints led directly to the river, and there ended their pursuit also.

The Hudson flowed on in silence.