Читать книгу Trail and Trading Post; or, The Young Hunters of the Ohio онлайн

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“I reckon he was right, Henry; I’ve seen some fine deer when I didn’t have anything to shoot with.”

The two young hunters now relapsed into silence, as the meadow came to an end and they entered the forest. Here there was a buffalo trail well defined, having been used by the animals for many years. The trail in general was old, but the fresh hoofmarks of the single animal that had just passed were easily followed by Henry, who was as good on a trail as the average Indian.

The forest was a primeval one, with great trees stretching their branches in all directions. Monstrous roots lay sprawled over the trail, and they had to watch out that one or the other did not take a tumble. The air was filled with the songs and cries of birds, while here and there they heard the steady tap-tap of the woodpecker at his work. They could have brought down a dozen squirrels had they felt so inclined, and not a few chipmunks also showed themselves.

“That buffalo must have gone quite a way,” remarked Henry, as they came to a halt in the midst of a forest glade. “We have already covered a good mile and a half.”