When the last Indian canoe was far beyond hearing they relaunched their own and paddled until nearly daybreak, coming to a place where bushes and tall grass grew thick in the shallow water at the edge of the river.

“Here,” said Tayoga, “we will leave the canoe.  A good hiding place offers itself, and with the dawn it will be time for us to take to the woods.”

They concealed with great art the little boat that had served them so well, sinking it in the heart of the densest growth and then drawing back the bushes and weeds so skillfully that the keenest Indian eye would not have noticed that anyone had ever been there.

“I hope,” said Robert sincerely, “that we’ll have the chance to return here some time or other and use it again.”

“That rests in the keeping of Manitou,” said the Onondaga, “and now we will take up our packs and go eastward toward Oneadatote.”

“But we won’t go fast, because my pack, with all this venison in it, is by no means light.”

“It is no heavier than mine, Dagaeoga, but, as you say, we will not hasten, lest we pass the Great Bear and the Mountain Wolf in the forest and not know it.  But I think we are safe in going toward Oneadatote, as Rogers and his rangers usually operate in the region of George and Champlain.”

They traveled two days and two nights and came once more among the high ridges and peaks.  They saw many Indian trails and always they watched for another.  On the third day Tayoga discovered traces in moss and he said with great satisfaction to his comrade: 

“Lo, Dagaeoga, we, too, be wise in our time.  The print here speaks to me like the print on the page of a book.  It says that the Great Bear has passed this way.”

“I can tell that the traces were made by the feet of a white man,” said Robert, “but how do you know they are Dave’s?”

“I have noticed that the Great Bear’s feet are more slender than the average.  Also he bears less upon the heel.  He poises himself more upon the toe, like the great swordsman we saw him to be that time in Quebec.”

“The distinctions are too fine for me, Tayoga, but I don’t question your own powers of observation.  I accept your statement with gratitude and joy, too, because now we know that Dave is alive, and somewhere in the great northern forest of the Province of New York.  I knew he could not be dead, but it’s a relief anyhow to have the proof.  But as I see no other traces, how is it, do you think, that he happens to be alone?”

“The Great Bear may have been making a little scout by himself.  I still think that he is with Rogers and the rangers, and when we follow his trail we are likely to find soon that he has rejoined them.”

The traces led north and east until they came to rocky ground, where they were lost, and Tayoga assumed from the fact that they were several days old, otherwise he could have made them out even in the more difficult region.  But when the path, despite all his searching, vanished in the air, he began to look higher than the earth.  Soon he smiled and said: