Robert had received Garay's pistol which, being of the same bore as his own, was now loaded with bullet and powder, instead of bullet and paper, and it swung at his belt, while Tayoga carried the intermediary's rifle, a fine piece.

It made an extra burden, but they had been unwilling to throw it away--a rifle was far too valuable on the border to be abandoned.
They maintained a good pace until noon, and, as they heard no sound behind them, less experienced foresters than they might have thought the pursuit had ceased, but they knew better.

It had merely settled into that tenacious kind which was a characteristic of the Indian mind, and unless they could hide their trail it would continue in the same determined manner for days.

At noon, they paused a half hour in a dense grove and ate bear and deer meat, sauced with some fine, black wild grapes, the vines hanging thick on one of the trees.
"Think of those splendid banquets we enjoyed when Garay was sitting looking at us, though not sharing with us," said Robert.
Tayoga smiled at the memory and said: "If he had been able to hold out a little longer he would have had plenty of food, and we would not have had the letter.

The Great Bear would never have starved him." "I know that now, Tayoga, and I learn from it that we're to hold out too, long after we think we're lost, if we're to be the victors." They came in the afternoon to a creek, flowing in their chosen course, and despite the coldness of its waters, which rose almost to their knees, they waded a long time in its bed.