"He is down on the shore," was the reply. "He went there as soon as he
heard the news, and has been there ever since."

Dane walked to the door and looked out. Down among the trees he saw
the Indian, moving slowly around, with eyes intent upon the ground.
Leaving the house, Dane hurried across the open, and he had almost
reached the native when the latter dropped upon his hands and knees,
and examined something he had just discovered.

"Have you found anything?" Dane asked.

"A-ha-ha," Pete replied, lifting his head, and holding forth a tiny
shred of cloth.

Dane seized it and examined it most carefully, while his heart gave a
great bound.

"It is a piece of Jean's dress!" he exclaimed. "I would know it among
a thousand. Where did you find it?"

"On dat," and the Indian laid his hand upon a sharp-pointed prong which
jutted out from the great root of a fallen tree. "White woman carried
off, eh?"

"It seems like it, Pete. Her dress must have caught on that snag.
Have you found anything else?"

"A-ha-ha. Injun track, see," and he pointed to the ground just in
front of him.