"I always do. Had I had time I should have used the knife. Come—the others will be hurrying here like turkey-buzzards after meat."
They turned north almost at right angles with the river and had barely lost themselves in a region of scrub when a hoarse howl at the neck of the bend advertised the discovery of Dillings' body. The two mules left an open trail, and Papa Clair dismounted and scouted ahead. Soon he whistled and Lander joined him on a stretch of stony ground that ran east and west. Clair mounted and took time to breathe deeply.
"They are not woodsmen, my friend. They are but tavern loungers. Yet behold, a man without eyes could follow our trail. So it is very good we reached this rough strip. We will follow it west and strike into the bull-berry bushes."
"Thanks to you we got out of that mess nicely," shivered Lander.
"Not yet out of it. They know we are here. They heard Dillings shoot. They know he wouldn't fire unless he saw something to shoot at. They heard my shot. They find him dead. We have lost a move. Now we will hold back and be sure the boat has gone on ahead even if we arrive at Lexington after the outfit has started."
