I was now indebted to another circumstance for a supply of caps. The locker near the heel of the stock had escaped the attention of the Indians. Its brass cover had passed for a thing of ornament. On springing it open the little caps of corrugated copper gleamed before my eyes--an abundance of them. I tapped the powder into the nipple; adjusted a cap; and, dismounting, set forth upon the stalk. The spreading tops of the cotton-woods concealed me; and, crouching under them, I made my approaches as rapidly as the nature of the ground would permit. It grew damper as I advanced; and, presently, I passed pools of water and patches of smooth mud--where water had recently lain. It was the bed of an intermittent stream--a hydrographic phenomenon of frequent occurrence in the central regions of North America. The presence of water accounted for that of the cotton-wood trees--a sure indication of moisture in the soil. The water was a welcome sight. I was suffering from thirst even more than from hunger; and, notwithstanding the risk of losing my chance of a shot, I determined to stop and drink. I was creeping forward to the edge of one of the ponds, when a sight came under my eyes that astonished me; and to such a degree, as to drive both thirst and hunger out of my thoughts--at least for the moment. In the margin of sandy mud extending along the edge of the water, appeared a line of tracks--the tracks of human feet! On crawling nearer, I perceived that they were mocassin-tracks, but of such tiny dimensions, as to leave no doubt as to the sex of the individual who had made them. Clearly, they were the imprints of a woman's feet! A woman must have passed that way! An Indian woman of course! This was my first reflection; and almost simultaneous with it arose another half-interrogative conjecture: was it Su-wa-nee? No. The foot was too small for that of the forest maiden. I had a remembrance of the dimensions of hers. The tracks before my eyes were not over eight inches in length: and could only have been made by a foot slender, and of elegant shape. The imprint was perfect; and its clear outline denoted the light elastic tread of youth. It was a _young_ woman who had made those footmarks. At first, I saw no reason to doubt that the tracks were those of some Indian girl. Their size would not have contradicted the supposition. Among the aboriginal belles of America, a little foot is the rule--a large one the exception. I had tracked many a pair much smaller than those; but never had I seen the footprints of an Indian with the _toes turned out_; and such was the peculiarity of those now before me. This observation--which I did not make till after some time had elapsed-- filled me with astonishment, and something more. It was suggestive of many and varied emotions. The girl or woman who had made these tracks could never have been strapped to an Indian cradle. She must be white! CHAPTER SIXTY NINE. A RIVAL STALKER.