Maybe they were here now, close by.

He stared about him, at the trees and the late afternoon sunlight filtering down through the gaps in the branches and the shadows that lay beyond. If he shouted, would they hear him? No sooner had the thought suggested itself than he dismissed it; there was a danger that someone or something else might hear. That bear, for instance. Will Archer had told him about the dangerous animals that roamed the forests – as well as bears, there were panthers and wildcats and wolves. A pack of wolves had killed a dog on a neighbour’s farm and it had not been pretty. He didn’t want to run into any of those.

And what about Indians? Archer had told him stories of the savages who’d lived in the valley before the arrival of the white men, before they had built the towns and the big Hall. They were tales told to disobedient children. Be good, or else the Indians will steal you away and turn you into slaves.

Not all Indians, he thought.

He stroked the amulet. Removing it from around his neck, he held it tightly in his hand and dismounted.

“Here, Tam,” he called. “Come here, boy.”

He waited as the hound trotted towards him. Squatting down, he held the totem to the dog’s nose.

“Find, boy! Find Tewanias!”

The dog looked at him and wagged his tail, sniffing at the object in his fingers.

“Go seek!” he said. He cupped his hand, enclosing the amulet, pressing it to the dog’s cold muzzle. “Tewanias! Go find!”

He took his hand away and waited.

The dog gazed up at him expectantly.

It’s not going to work, he thought bleakly. It’s up to me.

And then, as he got to his feet, Tam let out a bark and bounded away, only to stop twenty yards further down the path. Looking back, he barked again.

The boy’s pulse began to race. Quickly, he remounted Jonah.

“Go, Tam!” he urged. “Go find!”

Tam turned. Nose to the ground, tail held high, he set off once more. This time it was fifty yards before he looked back. This time he did not bark, but waited patiently until the boy caught up. Then he trotted ahead again.

Hope flared in the boy when he saw that the sun was where it should be. Provided they stayed on this heading, they would be moving in the right direction.

Northwards.

“This is it,” De Witt said, reining in the mare. “This is the place. There’s the tree and there’s the mark. You see?” He was unable to prevent the relief creeping into his voice.

Corporal Stryker looked to where the pastor was indicating.