"You may say what you like, Loyal Heart," said Belhumeur, "but you are wrong, you ought to have killed him."
"Bah! what for?" the hunter asked, carelessly.
"Cascaras! what for? Why, there would have been one head of vermin the less in the prairie."
"Where there are so many," said the other, "one more or less cannot signify much."
"Humph! that's true!" Belhumeur replied, apparently convinced; "but where are we going now?"
"To look after our traps, caramba! do you think I will lose them?"
"Humph! that's a good thought."
The hunters advanced in the direction of the camp, but in the Indian fashion – that is to say, by making numberless turnings and windings intended to throw out the Comanches.
After progressing in this way for twenty minutes, they arrived at the camp. The Indians had not yet returned; but in all probability, it would not be long before they did so. All their baggage was scattered about. Two or three horses, which had not felt disposed to run away, were browsing quietly on the peavines.
Without losing time, the hunters set about collecting their traps, which was soon done. Each loaded himself with five, and, without further delay, they resumed the way to the cavern where they had concealed their horses.
Notwithstanding the tolerably heavy weight they carried on their shoulders, the two men marched lightly, much pleased at having so happily terminated their expedition, and laughing at the trick they had played the Indians.
They had gone on thus for some time, and could already hear the murmur of the distant waters of the river, when, all at once, the neighing of a horse struck their ears.
"We are pursued," said Loyal Heart, stopping.
"Hum!" Belhumeur remarked, "it is, perhaps, a wild horse."
"No; a wild horse does not neigh in that manner; it is the Comanches; but we can soon know," he added, as he threw himself down to listen, and placed his ear close to the ground.
"I was sure of it," he said, rising almost immediately; "it is the Comanches; but they are not following a full track – they are hesitating."
"Or perhaps their march is retarded by the wound of Eagle Head."
"That's possible! Oh, oh! do they fancy themselves capable of catching us, if we wished to escape from them?"
"Ah! if we were not loaded, that would soon be done."
Loyal Heart reflected a minute.
"Come," he said, "we have still half an hour, and that is more than we want."
A rivulet flowed at a short distance from them; the hunter entered its bed with his companion, who followed all his movements.
When he arrived in the middle of the stream, Loyal Heart carefully wrapped up the traps in a buffalo skin, that no moisture might come to them, and then he allowed them quietly to drop to the bottom of the stream.
This precaution taken, the hunters crossed the rivulet, and made a false trail of about two hundred paces, and afterwards returned cautiously so as not to leave a print that might betray their return. They then re-entered the forest, after having, with a gesture, sent the dogs to the horses. The intelligent animals obeyed, and soon disappeared in the darkness.
This resolution to send away the dogs was useful in assisting to throw the Indians off the track, for they could scarcely miss following the traces left by the bloodhounds in the high grass.
Once in the forest, the hunters again climbed up a tree, and began to advance between heaven and earth – a mode of travelling much more frequently used than is believed in Europe, in this country where it is often impossible, on account of the underwood and the trees, to advance without employing an axe to clear a passage.
It is possible, by thus passing from branch to branch, to travel leagues together without touching the ground.
It was exactly thus, only for another cause, that our hunters acted at this moment.
They advanced in this fashion before their enemies, who drew nearer and nearer, and they soon perceived them under them, marching in Indian file, that is to say, one behind another, and following their track attentively.
Eagle Head came first, half lying upon his horse, on account of his wound, but more animated than ever in pursuit of his enemies.
When the Comanches passed them, the two trappers gathered themselves up among the leaves, holding their breath. The most trifling circumstance would have sufficed to proclaim their presence. The Indians passed without seeing them. The hunters resumed their leafy march.
"Ouf!" said Belhumeur, at the end of a minute. "I think we have got rid of them this time!"
"Do not cry before you are out of the wood, but let us get on as fast as we can; these demons of redskins are cunning, they will not long be the dupes of our stratagem."
"Sacrebleu!" the Canadian suddenly exclaimed, "I have let my knife fall, I don't know where; if these devils find it, we are lost."
"Most likely," Loyal Heart murmured; "the greater reason then for not losing a single minute."
In the meantime, the forest, which till then had been calm, began all at once to grow excited, the birds flew about uttering cries of terror, and in the thick underwood they could hear the dry branches crack under the hurried footfalls of the wild animals.
"What's going on now?" said Loyal Heart, stopping, and looking round him with uneasiness; "the forest appears to be turned topsy-turvey!"
The hunters sprang up to the top of the tree in which they were, and which happened to be one of the loftiest in the forest.
An immense light tinged the horizon at about a league from the spot where they were; this light increased every minute, and advanced towards them with giant strides.
"Curses on them!" cried Belhumeur, "the Comanches have fired the prairie!"
"Yes, and I believe this time that, as you said just now, we are lost," Loyal Heart replied coolly.
"What's to be done?" said the Canadian, "in an instant we shall be surrounded."
Loyal Heart reflected seriously.
At the end of a few seconds he raised his head, and a smile of triumph curled the corners of his mouth.
"They have not got us yet," he replied; "follow me, my brother;" and he added in a low voice, "I must see my mother again!"
CHAPTER VI.
THE PRESERVER
In order to make the reader comprehend the position of the hunters, it is necessary to return to the Comanche chief.
Scarce had his enemies disappeared among the trees, ere Eagle Head raised himself softly up, bent his body forward, and listened to ascertain if they were really departing. As soon as he had acquired that certainty, he tore off a morsel of his blanket with which he wrapped up his arm as well as he could, and, in spite of the weakness produced by loss of blood and the pain he suffered, he set off resolutely on the trail of the hunters.
He accompanied them, thus himself unseen, to the limits of the camp. There, concealed behind an ebony tree, he witnessed, without being able to prevent it, though boiling with rage, the search made by the hunters for their traps, and, at length, their departure after recovering them.
Although the bloodhounds which the hunters had with them were excellent dogs, trained to scent an Indian from a distance, by a providential chance, which probably saved the life of the Comanche chief, they had fallen upon the remains of the repast of the redskins, and their masters, not dreaming that they were watched, did not think of commanding their vigilance.
The Comanches at length regained their camp, after