Oscar leaned toward him, his blue eyes suddenly burning with excitement.
“What sort of footprints?” he questioned tersely. “How big? That makes all the difference in the world.”
“Why, I don’t know,” stammered Hugh; “just footprints of some big animal. They weren’t very plain.”
In wild haste Oscar fumbled in his pockets, pulled out a pencil and, so great was his eagerness, drew his rough outlines on the blank page of his Bible.
“If a fox had made them they would be this big,” he said; “and if a wolf, like this. Were they as big, bigger than that? As big as this?”
Hugh looked over his shoulder and pointed unhesitatingly to the third drawing.
“They were as large as that, or even larger,” he stated. “Oh, what does it mean?”
Oscar drew a long breath.
“There is but one creature that could have made them,” said he; “that is the dog Nicholas. He is very large, and white, as large as a deer. Now we have something to go upon at last.”
He glanced quickly toward the west and frowned as he noted that the sun was low.