"Very well; I will act as such, since you demand it. And I am glad, for one thing. After what I have already spoken, it shows that you aim at strict and impartial justice. But now to work. If they have really abandoned the train--as of course they have, if they _did_ kill Hefler--they must have taken food and other articles that would be missed. And a close search may give us the clue. You know the messes they belonged to; go and search closely. Chicot, come with me. I wish a word with you." Once fairly set to work, there was little time lost. In ten minutes the report was given. A small supply of provisions had been taken, and one pick-ax was missing; but that all believed to have been mislaid somewhere. No one--save Upshur--dreamed that the deserters had taken it. Paul Chicot gave his supposition or conjecture concerning the course most likely to be followed by the deserters. He believed they would take to the neighboring mountains, there to lie hidden until all search was given over. They would not be likely to take the back-trail, as they were afoot, and the country in that direction was mostly open and level. "I believe you're right, Chicot," remarked Mitchell, thoughtfully, "and we will act on that supposition first. We'd best form three or four parties and each choose a separate trail, for this day is all we can spare without absolute danger to the whole train." Little time was lost, now that the duty before them was fairly decided upon, and all entered upon it with growing eagerness. There is something strangely exciting in a _manhunt_. Set a warm friend upon the track of another, and, when once fairly aroused, that friend will be as inveterate and deadly in pursuit as though a lifelong enemy. This trait was exemplified now. Before an hour more passed by, even those who had first declared their belief in the young man's innocence, were the foremost in searching for his trail, eager to bring him to justice. Nathan Upshur kept close to Paul Chicot, the guide, eying him furtively, seemingly ill at ease. It was plainly evident that he felt no great desire for Burr Wythe's capture. Indeed, he tried to mislead Paul, and finally succeeded in doing so. Upshur had stealthily followed the three deserters for a considerable distance, on the night before, when they started for the "golden bed," as Duplin had called it, the better to satisfy his mind as to the location of the placer. And now for reasons of his own, he craftily led Chicot far astray from the right course, though none of the trail-hunters suspected his purpose. Satisfied with this, Upshur contentedly followed the guide's lead, feeling assured there was little or no danger of striking the deserters' trail, on that day at least. But at a cry from Chicot, his heart leaped wildly, and the flush left his face pale and ghastly.