"I know that a lame man made that set of marks."
"Very well. May Doctor Watson inquire on what Miss Sherlock Holmes bases her astounding deduction?"
"On those queer marks, of course, stupid!"
"Thanks. The clouds have vanished. You make everything so lucid." Bill stood erect once more.
"But, Bill--did you ever see a lame man--whose left leg was shorter than his right?"
"Maybe I did. But I can't swear at this distant date which leg was the shorter."
"Well, I can tell you that in this case, the left was!"
"Maybe--"
"Maybe nothing! Why am I sure of it? Because the man wore a lame man's boot--the kind with a very thick sole. My grandfather wore one. He twisted his hip when he was a boy and that leg didn't grow as long as the other. What is more, he always walked on the sole of his big boot--the heel never touched the ground!"
"I believe you are right," mused the young man, studying one of the queer footprints again.