ost about. See
here!" and bending down to the ground, Boone pointed out to his young
companions, many of whom were entirely ignorant of that ingenious art of
wood-craft, whereby the experienced hunter knows his safety or danger in
the forest as readily as the sailor knows his on the ocean, and which
appears to the uninitiated like a knowledge superhuman--Boone pointed
out to them, we say, three distinct foot prints, which he positively
asserted were neither made by the Indians nor the captives of the
ravine.

"But I'd jest like to know, Colonel Boone, how you can be so sartin o'
what you declar, ef it would'nt be for putting you to too much trouble,"
said one of the party, in surprise.

"Obsarve," replied Boone, who, notwithstanding it would cause some
little delay, was willing to gratify his young friends, by imparting to
them what information he could regarding an art so important to frontier
life: "Obsarve that print thar (pointing with his finger to the largest
one of the three;) now that war never made by Master Reynolds, for it's
much too big; and this I know from having got the dimension o' his track
afore I left the ravine to trail him; and I know it war never made by
one o' the red heathen, for it arn't, the shape o' thar feet,; and
besides, you'll notice how the toe turns out'ard from the heel--a thing
an Indian war never guilty on--for they larn from children to tread
straight forward. The next one you'll obsarve turns out in like manner;
and though it's smaller nor the first, it arn't exactly the shape of
Reynold's, and it's too big for Ella's; and moreover I opine it's a
woman's--though for the matter o' that I only guess at it. The third you
perceive is the child's; and them thar three are the only ones you can
find that arn't Indian's. Now note agin that the trail's spread here,
and that here and thar a twig's snapped on the bushes along thar way;
which the red-skins have done a purpose to make thar course conspicuous,
to draw thar pursuers on arter 'em, prehaps for an ambush, prehaps to
keep them from looking arter the others."

"In this perplexity what are we to do?" inquired young Millbanks.

"Why," answered Boone, energetically, "Heaven knows my heart yearns to
rescue all my fellow creaters who're in distress; but more particularly,
prehaps, them as I know's desarving; and as I set out for Master
Reynolds, and his sweet companion, Ella Barnwell, God bless her! I
somehow reckon it's my duty to foll