“They are trying to outwit us, White,” said the captain; “but they don’t know with whom they have to deal. This little piece of muslin is a Red-skin lie—though it did come from Jane Fielding’s dress. We must keep up the stream, and let those decoys go on their way.” “It has been ascertained,” says Chateaubriand, “that the white man, in America, is capable of enduring more hardships and privations than the Indian, and is decidedly his superior even in his own mode of warfare:” and thence he deduces sundry propositions about differences in race, and other unprofitable speculations. But the facts, about which there is no dispute, instead of being the result of generic distinctions, are the effects of a much later cause—superior intellectual culture. Not that the rangers of those days were highly educated men, in the ordinary acceptation of the term; but any degree in the scale of civilization, by the providence of God, possesses measureless advantages—in all the pursuits of life—over every lower grade. And, though these were decidedly ignorant men, their evident superiority over their enemies—without contradiction in terms—was the fruit of their _intelligence_. We cannot linger to detail the minute and, to other men, imperceptible signs, or the acute and logical reasonings upon these, which led the adventurers unerringly upon their way: though all would illustrate, so clearly, the principle above. They followed the trail, after it left the stream, several miles toward the north; when, on entering the broken country on the head waters of the Piasan, it verged suddenly to the left, and led, almost “as the bird flies,” directly toward the Illinois river. A little before sunset, they reached the banks of this tranquil stream; and but a moment’s examination was sufficient to determine that the fugitives had crossed here some hours before. But this was not the only inference that Edgar drew from the signs of their halt. The footprints of several horses led off from the river, in different directions; but it was in that uncertain, winding way which animals take while grazing—and from the extent of these paths, it was evident that a halt of some duration had been made. While minutely examining the ground, the captain suddenly discovered the print of a small shoe, and following it a little aside, he approached the river bank, and discovered the impress of both Jane’s feet in the soft loam. Directly over these, upon a willow branch, hung a small shell comb—evidently placed there as a signal for him. Beside her footprints were those of two savages, who had sought her, and dragged her roughly back to the halting point. Edgar noted these things with the coolness, but also with the fierceness of the ranger; and—grasping his rifle tighter in his hand—walked back to his companion. “They must have halted here two or three hours,” said the latter.