Part 13 (1/2)

”Yes,” answered Muro. ”We know the direction they have gone. In the morning we can go on from the place where we discovered the trail.”

”How far is it from here?”

”More than ten miles.”

The distance mentioned was in itself sufficient evidence that Muro had not wasted time.

They spent the remaining hours of the evening awaiting further news and it was fully ten o'clock before the sentry to the south reported the probable approach of Uraso. Harry leaped out from the circle, and followed the sentry. It was, indeed, Uraso who had been reporter.

”Tell me all about it,” he requested, and Harry, with a voice full of pathos, told him how it happened. When he had finished, Uraso said:

”I was told by my father that somewhere here in the seas was an island where were found most terrible people, who killed every one they captured. I hope this is not the place.” And Uraso did not say this to excite Harry's fears, but, like many natives, he was frank, and open in his speech.

”I hope there will be no trouble,” was Harry's response.

”We need not worry about George,” added Uraso. ”The way that he was taken shows that they are taking him to the Chief. A boy like George would be likely to interest the Chief, at first for a time, and time is all we want.”

”I am glad you have the same opinion as John,” answered Harry.

John, Muro and Uraso held a conference that night. As a result Harry was comforted to know and feel that George was safe, and that within a day or two at most, they would be able to come up with the tribe.

The entire party now numbered thirty-five, all well armed. In the morning, as soon as it was light enough to see they were up, and after a quick breakfast Muro directed them along the trail made the night before, and the spot where Muro found the trace was reached about nine o'clock.

John and his party now spread out so as to take in a wide expanse, and they marched toward the east for fully two hours. Sometimes all traces would be lost, and then there would be a halt and a search, and the native wit of the scouts was generally acute enough to recover the trail.

During these periodical searches, one of the men bounded forward with a cry, as he held up a hand in which something was swinging.

As usual Harry was there like a shot. ”That is George's chain,” he cried out.

”Where did you find this?” asked John.

The scout rushed over to the place, and all followed. The ground about plainly showed the evidences of the struggle where George's captors fought for the possession of the watch.

The trail was beginning to get warm. It was readily followed for several miles, and then disappeared, but after patient hunting it came to light, and shortly after noon the spot was reached where the Chief came on the scene, and the appearance of the ground indicated that there must have been a large number in the party.

Here was an occasion where one great quality of many savage tribes stands out so prominently, and that is in determining the number of their enemies by the foot prints. Hundreds of imprints on the soil, crossing and recrossing each other, will to the untrained seem a hopeless riddle.

On one occasion on Wonder Island, John stated that one of a party they were trailing, was wounded in one of his legs. The explanation was simple: The pressure of the foot in the soil was less on the lame than on the sound leg, and the stride was uneven.

But the scouts had to decipher the peculiar imprint of each foot, and then compare it with all the others, in turn.

”I could tell the difference in the shape of a shoe from another,” said Harry, ”but I do not see how it is possible to tell one foot print from another.”

”How do you distinguish people?” asked John.

”Well, usually, by their faces.”

”Quite true. Now feet are just as different as faces are. But there are other ways by which we recognize people.”

”Yes,” was the response. ”I can tell who many people are at distances so great that I cannot see their faces.”