The Wolf, if also surprised not to find game there, after all their labor in making such a skillful advance, showed no signs of disappointment. He had doubtless learned early in life that a warrior must never give way to such feelings. When things do not come his way it is his business to keep plodding along until the tide changes, for everything comes to him who waits, even game at a salt-lick. There was no longer any reason why they should crouch in an uncomfortable attitude. It was just as well to straighten up, relieve their tired muscles, go forward and examine the lick; and then, when the mood seized them, find a new hiding-place, where they could lie in wait. "Come on, Dick, let's see what the old thing looks like," Roger remarked, as he stepped out from the screen of bushes. Both the Mandan brave and Dick followed at his heels, for the latter was also curious to investigate. He had never seen a salt-lick, although told about such places by his father, as they were more plentiful away back in Kentucky than along the Mississippi. And it repaid them for the trouble they had experienced in making this stealthy advance. It was easy to see where the salt rock cropped out from the ground. In several places animals had actually worn a hole in it with their rough tongues. Their hoofs had also made various trails in front of each exposed salt rock, and Roger could easily see how a hunter, lying concealed in the bushes within a short arrow-flight of the spot, would be able to bring down his game. No doubt many a tragedy had taken place there, and Roger could picture them in his mind while examining the surroundings. Dick was still thinking of Jasper Williams. "I wonder if he could have been here, and gone again," he remarked. "Oh! I had about lost track of what we were coming out after--you mean the scout, Williams. And, sure enough, he isn't here, is he, Dick? Now, that's another disappointment. We might have found him waiting for some message from the Mandan chief. Well, there's only one thing we can do--camp here, and wait for one or the other to show up--game, or Jasper." "The Wolf seems to be examining something on the ground, which, I take it, must be tracks," announced Dick. "Then perhaps our man _has_ been here, and gone again?" ventured Roger, in a startled tone. "No, because he was to leave some sign behind him, a bark message in the crotch of a stick, perhaps, and there's nothing of the kind around, Roger, you see." "Well, but the Wolf seems to be bending over more than ever. Do you think it can be game he scents? Why, there are dozens of tracks here, and I don't see how any particular set could interest him," Roger continued. "Let's go forward and see for ourselves," Dick suggested.