AN UNSEEN ENEMY. 55 
" Simply, the canoe was not there. In some mysterious 
way it had been drawn out from its hiding-place, and had 
totally disappeared. 
'' I said there was no track. Stop — there was one. 
John pointed it out after we had been there a minute. 
It was a mere touch on the moss — so light as hardly to 
bend down the soft tops — yet, here and there, plainly 
enough marked when once we had found one, were the 
prints of a child's or a young girl's foot. The strange 
part of it was the lightness. We found one spot where 
she or it had stepped fairly on a piece of soft, muddy 
soil. As I live, masters, the print was not half a day old, 
and was not so deep." 
Joe measured off about an eighth of an inch on his 
thumb-nail. Nat crept more closely to his father, and 
glanced over his shoulder. There was always something 
uncanny about Joe's stories ; and, indeed, Mr. Dutton 
began to repent having called for the performance on this 
particular night. 
" Hurry up, Joe," he exclaimed, "and get to the point 
of your story. What made the tracks around the run ? 
Some light-footed Indian squaw, I suppose ! " 
" No squaw^," replied Joe, with dignity. " Track too 
ver' light, you see." 
But, as I said, I will not try to give the story in Joe's 
peculiar dialect. Here is the rest of it, translated into 
English. 
" We could make nothing of the tracks, and pretty 
