started.

"Such cunning is not without its deviltry," exclaimed Hawkeye, when he
met the disappointed looks of his assistants.

"We must get down to it, Sagamore, beginning at the spring, and going
over the ground by inches. The Huron shall never brag in his tribe that
he has a foot which leaves no print."

Setting the example himself, the scout engaged in the scrutiny with
renewed zeal. Not a leaf was left unturned. The sticks were removed,
and the stones lifted; for Indian cunning was known frequently to adopt
these objects as covers, laboring with the utmost patience and industry,
to conceal each footstep as they proceeded. Still no discovery was made.
At length Uncas, whose activity had enabled him to achieve his portion
of the task the soonest, raked the earth across the turbid little rill
which ran from the spring, and diverted its course into another channel.
So soon as its narrow bed below the dam was dry, he stooped over it with
keen and curious eyes. A cry of exultation immediately announced the
success of the young warrior. The whole party crowded to the spot where
Uncas pointed out the impression of a moccasin in the moist alluvion.

"This lad will be an honor to his people," said Hawkeye, regarding the
trail with as much admiration as a naturalist would expend on the tusk
of a mammoth or the rib of a mastodon; "ay, and a thorn in the sides of
the Hurons. Yet that is not the footstep of an Indian! the weight is too
much on the heel, and the toes are squared, as though one of the French
dancers had been in, pigeon-winging his tribe! Run back, Uncas, and
bring me the size of the singer's foot. You will find a beautiful print
of it just opposite yon rock, agin the hillside."

While the youth was engaged in this commission, the scout and
Chingachgook were attentively considering the impressions. The
measurements agreed, and the former unhesitatingly pronounced that the
footstep was that of David, who had once more been made to exchange his
shoes for moccasins.

"I can now read the whole of it, as plainly as if I had seen the arts of
Le Subtil," he added; "the singer being a man whose gifts lay chiefly in
his throat and feet, was made to go first, and the others have trod in
his steps, imitating their formation."

"But," cried Duncan, "I see no signs of--"

"The gentle ones," interrupted the scout; "the varlet has found a way to
carry them, until he supposed he had thrown any followers off the scent.
My