In this manner, Huron followed Huron until Natty began to hope the
whole had passed. Others succeeded, however, until quite forty
had leaped over the tree, and then he counted them, as the surest
mode of ascertaining how many could be behind. Presently all were
in the bottom of the glen, quite a hundred feet below him, and
some had even ascended part of the opposite hill, when it became
evident an inquiry was making as to the direction he had taken.
This was the critical moment, and one of nerves less steady, or of
a training that had been neglected, would have seized it to rise
and fly. Not so with Deerslayer. He still lay quiet, watching
with jealous vigilance every movement below, and fast regaining
his breath.
The Hurons now resembled a pack of hounds at fault. Little was
said, but each man ran about, examining the dead leaves as the hound
hunts for the lost scent. The great number of moccasins that had
passed made the examination difficult, though the in-toe of an Indian
was easily to be distinguished from the freer and wider step of a
white man. Believing that no more pursuers remained behind, and
hoping to steal away unseen, Deerslayer suddenly threw himself over
the tree, and fell on the upper side.
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