Thar's something wrong, for
sartin--for Caesar never lies."

In less than a minute the hunter came in sight of his dog, which he
found standing with his hind feet on the ground and his fore-paws
resting on the carcass of a horse, that had apparently been dead but a
short time. As Caesar perceived his master approach, he uttered another
of those peculiar, long, low, mournful howls, which the superstitious
not unfrequently interpret as omens of evil.

"Good heavens!" exclaimed the hunter, as he came up; "thar's been foul
play here, Caesar--foul play, for sartin. D'ye think, dog, it war Indians
as done it?"

The brute looked up into the speaker's face, with one of those
expressions of intelligence or sagacity, which seem to speak what the
tongue has not power to utter, and then wagging his tail, gave a sharp,
fierce bark.

"Right, dog!" continued the other, as, stooping to the ground, he began
to examine with great care the prints left there by human feet. "Right,
dog, they're the rale varmints, and no mistake. Ef all folks war as
sensible and knowing as you, thar would'nt be many fools about, I
reckon."

Having finished his examination of the ground, the hunter again turned
to look at the carcass of the horse, which was lying on its left side,
some two feet from the path, and had apparently fallen dead from a shot
in the forehead, between the eyes. An old saddle, devoid of straps, lay
just concealed under the branching cedars. The ground around was trodden
as if from a scuffle, and the limbs of the trees were broken in many
places--while in two or three others could be seen spots of blood, not
even yet dry--none of which informants of the recent struggle escaped
the keen observation of the woodsman. Suddenly the dog, which had been
watching his master's motions intently, put his nose to the ground,
darted along the path further into the ravine, and presently resounded
another of those mournful howls.

"Ha! another diskivery!" exclaimed the hunter, as he started after his
companion.

About thirty yards further on, he came upon the carcass of another
horse, which had been killed by a ball in the right side, and the blow
of some weapon, probably a tomahawk, on the head. By its side also lay
a lady's saddle, stripped like the former of its trappings. This the
woodsman now proceeded to examine attentively, for something like a
minute, during which time a troubled expression rested on his dark,
sunburnt features.

"