"Come on," called Ben in a low voice, but with a renewal of hope;
"we shall get somewhere one of these days."
To their surprise, not far from the rocks they came upon a faintly
marked path among the trees.
"What is the meaning of that?" Ben asked, looking inquiringly at
his mother and Linna.
"Men don't do dat--wild beasts," replied the dusky child.
"She is right," added the mother; "the animals follow it to water;
let us do the same."
The haunting fear of the red men made the words between the fugitives
few, and all their movements guarded. They kept glancing to right
and left, in front and to the rear, Linna being probably the most
active. It was as if she inherited from her parents their surprising
woodcraft, and was now calling it into play for the benefit of her
friends.
Suddenly something flickered in the path ahead, and Ben stopped
short, those behind him doing the same.
Just in advance--less than fifty yards indeed--a beautiful fawn
had come to a halt. Its graceful head, with its soft brown eyes,
was lifted high, and it looked wonderingly at the people, as if
not knowing the meaning, and too innocent to feel fear. Ben drew up
his rifle, for it was a tempting chance for a delicious breakfast.
But almost instantly he lowered the weapon again.
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