Nearly all were dressed in finely tanned deerskin, hunting shirt, leggings and moccasins, fringes on hunting shirt and leggings, and beads on moccasins.

The sun glinted on the long slender, blue steel barrel of the Western rifle, carried in the hand of every man.

At the belt swung knife and hatchet, and the eyes of all, now that the pursuit had begun, were intense, eager and fierce.
The sounds made by the little Western army, hid under the leafy boughs of the forest, gradually died away to almost nothing.

No one spoke, save at rare intervals.

The moccasins were soundless on the soft turf, and there was no rattle of arms, although arms were always ready.