But I was more interested in what had become of this strange man than in the sort of projectiles rumor said that he used in his gun and so dismissed the subject with a request for further information about our rescuer. “This morning when I opened my peepers,” Pete continued, “I t’ought maybe the Wild Hunter had only gone off on a tramp; but he’s done clared out for good, and tuk his wolves and bird with him. I’m some glad he took th’ wolves, I don’t sorter like the look of their mean eyes; they do say that he is a wolf himself and the head of the pack.” “What’s that, Pete? Steady, old man, now let’s go slow.” “All right; tha’s wha’ I mean ter do. ’Cause it hain’t a varmint natur’ to help men folks, and he done helped us, and no mistake, and left us the bulk of the b’ar too,—only took the claws, teeth and tenderloin or two for himself and pack; that is, if he be a wolf. But we will settle that if your foot will let you walk a bit.” “How far?” I asked. “Only over yan way to the first piece of wet ground, and the trail leads down to tha’ spring tha’, and tha’ is quite a right smart bit of muddy swail beyont.” “All right, I’ll try it,” I exclaimed. But I could not touch my foot on the ground, and it was not until my guide had made me a crutch of a forked branch, padded with a piece of fur, that I was able to go limping along after Big Pete. We followed the trail left by the Wild Hunter to the spring. The trail after that was plain, even to my inexperienced eyes; and when we reached the muddy spot the print of the moccasined feet and the dog-like tracks of the wolves were distinctly visible. But look at Big Pete! As motionless as a statue, with a solemn face he stoops with a rigid figure pointing to the trail! I hastened to his side and saw that the moccasin prints ceased in the middle of an open, bare, muddy place and beyond were nothing but the dog-like tracks of the wolves. I looked up and all around; there were no overhanging branches that a man could swing himself upon, no stones that he could leap upon—nothing but the straggling bunches of ferns; but here in this open spot the Wild Hunter vanished. We walked back in silence, for I had nothing to say, and Pete did not volunteer any further information. CHAPTER VI