The track was long and immensely broad, and the impressions of all five toes were visible at the end farthest from the river. But Tad, even with his slight knowledge of woodcraft, knew that a bear track would show the claw-points beyond the toes. [Illustration: HE SAW THE PRINT OF A NAKED FOOT] “It’s a man, isn’t it?” he said, almost in a whisper. “If it’s a man,” Abe answered slowly, “he’s got the biggest foot I ever hope to see. It’s as long as mine, an’ most half ag’in as wide. What’s more, I should say he’d never had a pair o’ shoes on in his life. Look at them splay toes.” Tad saw that the print of the great toe was separated by a full inch from that of the second. “Who--who do you think made it?” he asked. Abe considered a moment. “I think it was a nigger,” he said. “Most likely a runaway slave, but anyhow a mighty big feller--one o’ the biggest. What I really want to know, though, is when he come by here. If ’twas last night it must ha’ been in the first few hours, ’cause--” “No, sirree!” Allen spoke up indignantly. “Everything was quiet ’round yere in _my watch_--outside o’ the noise you made snorin’.” Abe grinned. “Wal,” said he, “thar’s no way I know of to settle it. An’ he didn’t do us much harm that I can see. The sensible thing fer us to do is head south an’ leave him.” With a last look at the mysterious footprint, they boarded the _Katy Roby_ once more and shoved out into the current, eating breakfast as they went. “Anyhow,” said Allen, casting a sidelong look at the landing-place, “he was headed away from us when he made that track.” He took a mouthful of bacon, and then--“I hope he keeps on goin’,” he chuckled. None of them felt very talkative that morning. They took their turns at the oars and tiller and kept the flatboat moving at her best speed, which now averaged four to five miles an hour. The current was perceptibly slower as they went farther south, and the channel seemed deeper, with fewer sand-bars. There were numerous jungle-clad islands, however, and in some of the narrow cuts through which they passed, the giant creepers and the long festoons of Spanish moss came trailing across the deck with a cool, slithery sound. At noon they came into the head of a long open reach, and Abe stopped rowing to mop his sun-burned forehead. “Whew!” he breathed. “Hotter’n corn-hoein’ time up home. It takes somethin’ to make me sweat, too. Wal, we don’t have to work so hard from now on. Let’s see--” he did some counting on his fingers--“we must be ’most a hundred an’ ten mile below Natchez right now. We’ll be down to Baton Rouge ’fore night, an’ I’m told thar’s good landin’s all along the Sugar Coast, below thar.”