A brook was close by, and at this Dave took a washing up, which made him
wide-awake. Then he began to gather some sticks with which to start up a
blaze in order to cook the morning meal.

He had taken up half a dozen sticks when a sound not very far away caught
his ears. He was on the alert instantly, thinking it might perhaps be some
wild animal. A dozen paces away was his gun, and he dropped the firewood
and caught up the weapon.

Hardly had he done so, when he saw the form of a burly French hunter
stealing through the forest toward the spot where the attack had been made
on the pack-train. Fortunately, the Frenchman did not look toward Dave, so
he and his companions, and their steeds, were not discovered.

"That fellow is up to no good, that is certain," thought the youth, and
lost no time in arousing his companions.

"A Frenchman, eh?" said Jadwin. "More'n likely one of the crowd come back
to see if he can't take away what was left of the loot."

Making no noise, they followed the Frenchman, who was dressed in the
conventional garb of the hunters of the Great Lakes. The newcomer moved
forward swiftly, and they had all they could do to keep up with him.

The spot reached, the Frenchman gazed around with evident dismay. Probably
he had expected to see what had been left of the pack-train still there.

"Gone!" he muttered, in his native tongue. "I have had my trip of thirty
miles for nothing."