n; but he too ran at the sound of John's footsteps, and
the corpse, as John came abreast of it, slid over in a silly heap,
almost rolling against his legs.

He leaped aside and cleared it, and in a moment was pelting down the
slope after the sergeant, who flung back an agonised doubtful glance,
and recognising his pursuer grunted with relief. At their feet, and
far below, spread a wide plain--a sea of forest rolling, wave upon
wave, with a gleam of water between. The river, then--Bateese's
river--was near at hand.

Fifty yards down the slope, which was bare of cover, he saw the two
Indians. Muskingon led by a few strides, and the pair seemed to be
moving noiselessly; yet, by the play of their shoulders, both were
running for their lives. John raced past the lumbering sergeant and
put forth all his strength to catch up with Menehwehna. The descent
jarred his knees horribly, and still, as he plunged deeper into the
shadow of the plain, the stones and bushes beneath his feet grew
dimmer and the pitfalls harder to avoid. His ears were straining for
the Indian war-whoop behind him; he wondered more and more as the
seconds grew into minutes and yet brought no sounds but the trickle
and slide of stones dislodged by Barboux thundering in the rear.

They were close upon the outskirts of the forest. He had caught up
with Menehwehna and was running at his heels, stride for stride.

In the first dark shadow of the trees Menehwehna checked himself,
came to a sudden halt, and swung round, panting. Somehow, although
unable to see his face, John knew him to be furiously angry--with the
cold fury of an Indian.

"Englishman, you are a fool!"

"But why?" panted John innocently. "Is it the noise I made?
I cannot run as you Indians can."

Menehwehna grunted. "What matters noise more or less, when _he_ is
anywhere near?"

"They have not seen us!" gasped Barboux, blundering up at this moment
and almost into John's arms.

"To be sure," answered Menehwehna sardonically, "they have not seen
us. It may even be that the great Manitou has smitten them with
deafness and they have not heard you, O illustrious!--and with
blindness, that they cannot trace your footmarks; yes, and perchance
with folly, too, so that, returning to a dead man whom they left,
they may wonder not at all that he has tumbled himself about!"

"_Peste!_ It was this Englishman's fault. He came running behind
and hurried me. But you Indians do not know e