The hunter left Leslie in order to search for game, as they both were exceedingly hungry. He returned in a short time, to the surprise of Leslie, who had not heard the report of his gun. Kent informed him that he had slain it without firing a shot, as he dared not to risk one. A fire was started, it being concealed by the river-bank as much as possible, and their food was cooked. This finished, the fire was extinguished, and they partook of the repast. A moon as bright as that of the preceding night arose, and the clear river, glistening in the moonlight like liquid silver, was visible for a great distance. Leslie was soon asleep, but Kent lay awake the greater part of the night, revolving in his mind the best course to pursue in regard to capturing Rosalind. At last he hit upon the plan, and having fully determined what to do, he fell into a peaceful slumber. "Now to the rescue," said Leslie, springing to his feet as soon as it was fairly light. "I'd advise you to put a stopper on that jaw of yourn, if you don't want the whole pack down here in a twinklin'," quickly retorted the hunter, slowly coming to the sitting posture. "Why, what's the matter, Kent?" "Oh, nothin'; only there's a few Injins squatted over on t'other shore." "Ah! well, they can't see us, at any rate, for a thick fog has gathered during the night and is resting upon the river." "Wal, they can hear you easy 'nough, 'specially if you go on that way." "Come, come, Kent, don't be cross. I'll wager that they haven't heard me, and I promise that they shall not." The two shouldered their rifles, and, as the mist was slowly rising from the river, again commenced their journey. The trail was now easily discovered, and followed without difficulty. It led most of the time along the bank of the river, and its distinctness showed that the savages had no fear or cared little for pursuit. Instead of proceeding in Indian file, as they had at first, they traveled promiscuously and carelessly, and their number could be easily made out by their footsteps. During the course of the day Kent gave the exact number to Leslie, and the precise time that they had journeyed over the ground. Leslie, in the ardor of his hopes, still had a fear that they might not really be upon the track of Rosalind. Might not some other party be misleading them? Was it not possible that the party had subdivided, and the one that held her taken an entirely different course? The probability of error prevented him from experiencing the joyous hopefulness that he might have otherwise felt. This worried and caused him so much anxiety, that he expressed his fears to Kent. "Don't know but what we are," returned the hunter, composedly. "Do you _think_ that we are?" asked Leslie, earnestly. "Can't say; I'll go back if you want to." "Heigh! what's that?" He sprung forward and caught a shred fluttering from a bush. "That's it! that's it!" he shouted, fairly leaping with joy.