“Lead on, McDuff,” Kramer invited.
“You got my name wrong, buddy, it’s Summers—”
“I know, but that’s just a quotation,” Kramer hastened to explain.
“He wants you to show us,” Bob added.
“Oh, I see, he’s from Missouri. Well, come along.”
“Do we need the battery?” Kramer asked. He didn’t like toting a gun and seeing the two in the boys’ belts made him feel uncomfortable.
“We’ve got them on, and we might as well keep them,” Jim answered cautiously.
“Bring it with you, it will make you feel more as if you are in the woolly west,” Bob put in quickly. Both he and Jim were sure that leaving them behind would be foolish, and although all thought of danger had been effectively dispelled by Summers, they were not taking needless chances, at least until the ranch guardian had absolutely convinced them.
Carl made his way back down the slippery trail while the three followed single file. The descent was about a hundred feet and at the bottom they started to walk easily on the thick crust across a couple of acres of open space, then they reached the back of a row of sheds which had been used for machinery, tools, and also a smithy and general catch-all. Summers removed a loose board so they went through, and then proceeded by a winding way past the numerous ranch buildings until they came to the further end where the deserted home had been erected. There were a few scrub trees around it, their branches poking up through the snow, and here and there were layers of soft snow that had not frozen because it had been jarred from the branches or blown from near-by roofs.
“Here you are.” Summers stopped at the edge of a clear spot on the far side of the house, which was less exposed than the front, and protected from the colder winds by the elbow of the cliff. The three looked down quickly, and sure enough, they saw a set of tracks that must have been made by some large animal. It looked as if the beast had made the circuit twice, for most of the imprints were irregular, but many of them were distinct enough to show their form.