cceed--for the Little Statue's prayers were following
me--and I bounded on with a faith as buoyant as the priest's blind
trust. Thus we ran through the moon-shafted woods pursuing the flitting,
lithe figures of trapper and Indian, who scarce disturbed a fern leaf,
while Father Holland and I floundered through the underbrush like
ramping elephants. Then I found myself panting as hard as the priest and
clinging to his arm for support; for illness had taken all the bravery
out of my muscles, like champagne uncorked and left in the heat.

"Brace yourself, lad," said the priest. "The Lord is with us, but don't
you bungle."

A long, low whistle came through the dark, a whistle that was such a
perfect imitation of the night hawk, no spy might detect it for the
signal of a runner. After the whistle, was the soft, ominous hiss of a
serpent in the grass; and we were abreast of Louis Laplante and Little
Fellow standing stock still sniffing forward as hounds might scent a
foe.

"She may not be there! She may be drown;" whispered Louis, "but we creep
on, quiet like hare, no noise like deer, stiller than mountain cat,
hist--what that?"

The night breeze set the leaves all atremble--clapping their hands, as
the Indians call it--and a whiff of burning bark tainted the air.
"That's it," said I under my breath.

The smoke was blowing from wooded flats between us and the river.
Cautiously parting interlaced branches and as carefully replacing each
bough to prevent backward snap, we turned down the sloping bank. I
suppose necessity's training in the wilds must produce the same result
in man and beast; and from that fact, faddists of the various "osophies"
and "ologies" may draw what conclusions they please; but I affirm that
no panther could creep on its prey with more stealth, caution and
cunning than the trapper and Indian on the enemy's camp. I have seen
wild creatures approaching a foe set each foot down with noiseless
tread; but I have never seen such a combination of instincts, brute and
human, as Louis and Little Fellow displayed. The Indian felt the ground
for tracks and pitfalls and sticks, that might crackle. Louis, with his
whole face pricked forward, trusted more to his eyes and ears and that
sense of "feel," which is--contradictory as it may seem--utterly
intangible. Once the Indian picked up a stick freshly broken. This was
examined by both, and the Indian smelt it and tried his tongue on the
broken edge. Then both fell