In five minutes he too had gone to the land of dreams and the hunter watched alone.  Willet, although weary, was in high spirits.  They had come marvelously through many perils, and Tayoga’s achievement in rescuing Grosvenor, he repeated to himself, was well nigh miraculous.  After such startling luck they could not fail, and an omen of continued good fortune was the fact they had encountered the trail of Black Rifle.  He would be a powerful addition to their little force, when found, and Willet did not doubt that they would overtake him.  The only problem that really worried him now was that of food.  Small as was their army of four, it had to be provisioned, and, for the present, he did not see the way to do it.

He let the three sleep overtime, and when they awoke they were grateful to him for it.

“I am quite made over,” said Grosvenor, “and I think that if I stay in the wilderness long enough I may learn to be a scout too.  But as all my life has been spent in quite different kinds of country, I suppose it will take a hundred years to give me a good start.”

Tayoga smiled.

“Not a hundred years,” he said.  “Red Coat has begun very well.”

“And now with a lot of good solid food I’ll feel equal to any march,” continued Grosvenor.  “Most Englishmen, you know, eat well.”

Tayoga looked at Robert, who looked at Willet, who in his turn looked at the Onondaga.

“That’s just what we’ll have to do without,” said the hunter gravely.  “The bottoms of our knapsacks are looking up at us.  We’ll have a splendid chance to see how long we can do without food.  One needs such a test now and then.”

Grosvenor’s face fell, but his was the true mettle.  In an instant his countenance became cheerful again.

“I’m not hungry!” he exclaimed.  “It was the delusion of a moment, and it passed as quickly as it came.  I suffer from such brief spells.”

The others laughed.

“That’s the right spirit,” said Willet, “and while we have nothing to eat we have lots of hope.  I’ve been hungrier than this often, and, as you see, I’ve never starved to death a single time.  There’s always lots of food somewhere in the wilderness, if you only know how to put your hand on it.”

“I think it is now best for us to follow on the trail of Black Rifle,” said Tayoga.

“That’s so,” responded the hunter.  “It’s grown a lot colder, while you lads slept, though I think you can follow it without any trouble, Tayoga.”

The red lad said nothing, but at once picked up the traces, which now led south, slanting back a little toward the lake.

“Black Rifle was going fast,” he said.  “His stride lengthens.  He must have divined where St. Luc with his force lay, and he took a direct course for it.  Ah, he turns suddenly aside and walks to and fro.”

“That’s curious,” said the hunter.  “I see the footprints all about.  What did Black Rifle mean by moving about in such a manner?”