had ridden on first. The night was rather dark,
but Lacosse said the trail could easily be distinguished.
With regard to the shot we had heard fired, and the
moans which followed it, Bradley said that shortly
after missing McPhail, they found some wolves were
on their track, in ail likelihood scenting the deer
which they were carrying slung across their horses.
Fearing their noise might attract a more dangerous
customer, in the shape of a puma, towards them, he
fired a couple of pistols, which had the effect of
wounding two of the pack, who rolled over with terrific
howls. It must have been Bradley’s last
shot that woke us, for none of us heard more than
one shot fired.
Our three huntsmen set about preparing their supper
immediately, in the full expectation that McPhail
would make his appearance before the venison was ready.
The supper was, however, cooked and eaten, but still
no McPhail arrived. Another hour was suffered
to elapse, and then we began to consider that it was
nearly three hours ago since he was last seen, while
at that time he was not more than one hour’s
distance from the camp. It was evident, therefore,
that he had either missed the trail or followed it
in the opposite direction (which last was the old
trapper’s opinion), or else some more serious
misfortune had happened to him. We at once resolved
to set out in search of him, leaving a guard behind
at the camp. The mate and Don Luis, being both,
as it were, invalided, were of course among those
who were to remain. Bradley pleaded fatigue,
and wished to stay in camp, and Biggs was left on
guard with him.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Where McPhail was last seen
The trapper’s keen eyes
A nap in the open air
The Author woke up
Camp-fires
A surprise attempted
Horses left in charge
The tactics of the advance and the retreat
A shot from a rifle, and a man wounded
A salute
The rifle shot explained
Horses driven off
A volley fired
Poor Horry scalped
The trapper promises vengeance
The wounded man
Grief at the loss of a friend
A mystery explained
Horry’s grave
His funeral and monument.
It must have been about one o’clock when we
started, and, after half-an-hour’s hard riding,
we came upon the spot where McPhail had last been
seen. We shouted for some time as loudly as our
lungs would let us, but heard nothing, save the howl
of some hungry wolf, in reply. We then followed
the trail at a brisk pace for eight or nine miles,
but could discover nothing of our missing friend.
There seemed no possibility of ascertaining whether
he had proceeded in the direction in question or not,
as the marks made by the horses of the party in the
morning, on their way out, somewhat confused the old
trapper. His keen eye, however, soon detected
marks of a horse’s hoof in a contrary direction,
over the marks which the horses of the hunting party
had made on their return. These signs were not
apparent beyond the spot we had reached. In which
direction they were continued, the night was too dark
to discover.
