“I don’t see any here,” replied the young borderer. “They may have come another way.” Upon his hands and knees, taking advantage of the tall grass, fallen trees and hummocks of earth, he made his way to the right of their own trail. “Keep as close to the ground as you can,” he warned Frank, who followed him. “We don’t know who they are, and as they are almost sure to be on the watch, we don’t want to be seen until we know they’re friends.” About two score yards from their original stopping place he paused. “Injuns!” said he. Frank looked at the signs; there were the hoof tracks of a dozen or more horses; and the broad drag of the poles in the midst of these was unmistakable. “I suppose none but the redskins drag their camp stuff on poles at their horses’ heels that way, eh?” asked he. “No,” replied Jack Davis. “But there are other signs, too. If you’ll notice, they rode in single file; Injuns almost always do that and white men never, unless the trail is narrow. And look where one of the redskins dismounted! See the print of his moccasin in the dust? Only Injuns have feet shaped like that.” They made their way, in the same cautious fashion, back to the place where the young Cherokee guarded the horses. “They’re Injuns,” said Jack. Running Elk nodded; he did not seem at all surprised. “Red Sticks,” spoke he. And then: “How many?” “About ten--with packhorses, and lodge poles.” This latter statement seemed to attract the young warrior’s attention. His keen eyes went in the direction of the curling column of smoke as it was lifted above the tree tops. “Not hunters,” said he. “Party from long way off.” “What makes you think that, Running Elk?” asked Frank. “Hunters no carry tepee; pack meat on horses’ backs.” From their concealment behind the clump of beeches, the three watched the ascending smoke for some little time; then as the sun sank below the line of forest and the shadows began to gather, Jack said: “Well, it looks as though we couldn’t venture down to the creek, at this point, anyhow; so, if we’re going to have any supper, we’d best be looking for another camping place.” Remounting, they headed away to the west; darkness came upon them as they reached a narrow ravine. Here they built a small fire, carefully masked so as not to be observed by a chance prowler; some small game, shot during the afternoon, was roasted upon their ramrods, with flour cakes baked upon the gray coals. While they ate, Frank looked soberly at Jack. “I suppose we’ve been very fortunate in not coming upon any roving Indian bands before now,” said he. Jack nodded. “We slid through this whole Creek region as quietly as you please,” said he. “Never had to stop for anything except to kill a bit of meat now and then, and get a little sleep.” “Well, now that we have run into a lot of reds,” said Frank, “I can’t help blaming myself for dragging you away down here and getting you into danger.”