“It is not odd at all,” said Tayoga.  “Doubtless Black Rifle was suffering from the same lack that we are, and it was necessary for him to provision his army of one at once.  He suddenly saw a chance to do so and he turned aside from his direct journey toward the south.  So we shall soon see where Black Rifle shot his bear.”

“And why not a deer?” said Grosvenor.

“Because his trail now leads toward that deep thicket on our right, a thicket made up of bushes and vines and briars.  A deer could not have gone into it, but a bear could, and we know now it was a bear, because here are its tracks.  Black Rifle killed the bear in the thicket.”

“Are you sure of that, Tayoga?” asked Robert.

“Absolutely sure, Dagaeoga.  It is in this case a matter of mind and not of eye.  Black Rifle is too good a hunter to fire a useless shot, and too experienced to miss his game, when he needs it so badly.  He would take every precaution for success.  My mind tells me that it was impossible for him to miss.”

“And he didn’t miss,” said Robert, as they entered the thicket.  “See where the vines and briars were threshed about by the bear as he fell.  Here are spots of blood, and here goes the path along which he dragged the body.  All this is as plain as day.”

“It was a fat bear too,” said Tayoga.  “Although it is early spring he had found so many good roots and berries that he had more than made up for the loss of weight in his long winter fast.  We will soon find where Black Rifle cleaned his prize.  A bear is too heavy to carry far.  Ah, he did his work just beyond us in the little valley!”

“How do you know that?” asked Grosvenor.  “We can’t yet see into the valley.”

The great red trailer smiled.

“This time, O Red Coat,” he replied, “it is a combination of mind and eye.  Mind tells me that Black Rifle could not clean and dress his bear unless he got it to water.  Mind tells me that a brook is flowing in the valley just ahead of us, because there is scarcely a valley in the country that does not have its brook.  Eye tells me that Black Rifle finished his task by the great oak there.  Do you not see the huge buzzards flying above the tree?  They are conclusive.  Ah, the forest people gathered fast in numbers!  They expected that Black Rifle would leave them a great feast.”

They found a little brook of clear, cold water and, beside it, the place where Black Rifle had cleaned his bear, reserving afterward the choice portion for himself.

“When he went on,” said Tayoga, “the forest people made a rush for what he did not want, which was much.  Great birds came.  We cannot see their trail through the air, but we can see where they hopped about here on the ground, tore at the flesh, and fought with one another for the spoil.  A lynx came, and then another, and then wolves.  The weasel and the mink too hung on the outskirts, waiting for what the bigger animals might leave.  Among them they left nothing and they were not long in the task.”