“You _did_ kill ’em?” “Kill who?” “Dead soldier—there!” Fall-leaf indicated that he meant further on. “Come on, Ingen,” said Nettleton. He reached the summit of the hill which overlooked the valley below, and, led by Fall-leaf, began its descent. They soon reached the stream, and the Indian pointed to the dead body. Nettleton gazed upon it a moment, and then said: “Darn me if it ain’t the very feller what run away last night. Walker has been here, sure!” He commenced his search at once. He found footprints in the sand, and among them that of a lady, judging from its small size. The Indian had also been taking observations. Returning from a clump of bushes, he said to Nettleton: “See—canoe—two—White Bird—so!” Here Fall-leaf indicated by action, that two men had drawn a boat from concealment in the thicket, had entered it, as indicated by tracks in the sand, and had proceeded down-stream. “Well, they’ve got rid of one scoundrel, any way. It will only be man to man, and I feel myself to be a match for any dozen such skunks as that Walker. They can’t have much the start!” Both Fall-leaf and Nettleton walked rapidly forward along the bank of the stream. At length—and it was almost a simultaneous movement on the part of each—they stopped, and bending forward, held their ears close to the ground. “By thunder!” cried Nettleton, “that’s _her_ voice!” “White Bird caged—_she_ no sing!” replied Fall-leaf. “Ain’t you a darn fool? Don’t you know that White Bird, as you call her, has got a right to expect some of her friends will be after her, and so she sings that they may hear her voice, echoing up and down among these hills, and know where to find her?” “Ugh! good—white hunter no fool!” Again the voice was heard, and this time so clearly as to leave no doubt upon the mind of our hero, as to who the singer was. Like a deer he bounded off in the direction indicated. The music died away and all was still. But the two men paused not. Upon a sudden they emerged into an open field of about four acres, near the center of which were two large stacks of hay. The river at this point took a bend, and the two pursuers struck directly across the open space. Just as they reached the stacks, Fall-leaf darted close in to the base of one of them, taking the attitude of a listener, and making a significant sign to Nettleton. “What is it?” asked Nettleton. “Hark! Soldiers! Horses! Whoa! Hark!” Nettleton listened attentively, and then said: “There is a party of soldiers coming. It _may_ be our men who have been in search of Miss—— of the White Bird; but, it is well enough to keep close. It may be the rebels merely moving camp. And if this is so, Mamie must be with them. The sounds are coming nearer—crawl under the hay, red-skin—way under, out of sight.”