“Nothin’ of the kind!” interposed the other. “And that ain’t all. Acey Smith’s got another Indian trailin’ you.”
“Trailing me? The deuce you say!”
“I said it.”
“But what makes you think Acey Smith’s got anything to do with it?”
Macdougal shrugged. “Who else?” he asked. More whiskey than was discreet had loosened up his tongue. “Who else do you think? Who else but Acey Smith keeps every straw-boss in the camp jumpy all the time just so they won’t get too busy comparin’ notes and find out what’s what? That man’s a devil, and there ain’t two ways about that.
“I got next to this stunt through an accident,” the cook went on. “Was over hidin’ in some green stuff on the side of the Second Hill the other morning figurin’ on snipin’ a couple of partridge when I sees you go by on the tote road. Then I see a long, skinny-lookin’ Indian slippin’ through the brush close to my hide after you. A couple of minutes more and along comes old Leather Face, the Medicine Man, as pompous as you please, but it ain’t long before I discovers that his nibs is a-watchin’ both of you, though he makes a big face of bein’ unconcerned and about his own business. Now, what do you think of that layout, son?”
Hammond was thoughtful. If he were to admit the truth his breath was literally taken away by the revelation. “Smith must attach a lot of importance to me to hire two of them to watch me,” was what he said.
“I ain’t so sure both of them is hired to watch you,” observed his friend. “Medicine men are too stuck on themselves to do shadowin’ jobs. They go after bigger stuff. Smith uses them to put the fear of the Lord into the Indian workers when he needs them. That’s one of the reasons why he lets old fakirs like Bush loaf around the camp and do what they please. No Indian gives any back talk about what the Medicine Man says or does, because they think he can make a Windigo any time he feels like it to bring them bad luck.”
“Well, then, Sandy,” urged Hammond, “what’s your theory? I’ll admit it’s got me beaten.”
“I got it figured out as one of two things,” replied the cook. “Either you’re hired by outside parties to get something on Smith or the North Star he’s afraid you’ll find out, and he’s havin’ you shadowed—or else, well, don’t take offence if I say it plain that this looks to me more like it: you’ve been sent out here by some of the higher-ups for him to take care of you and he has that Indian guy watchin’ to see that nothin’ happens to you.”