“Wogh! Don’t you s’pose I could tell a red’s track from a grizzly’s?”
“But it might have been a white man—some hunter or trapper?” I suggested.
“A white man wouldn’t be mean ’nough to do sich a thing, ’less it war some of those Hudson Bay fellers. They try them tricks sometimes, but they git come up to. I catched a feller once from Fort Hall at mine, and the way I walked into him war a caution; but this ar’ an Injin’s track, sure.”
“Do you suspect there could be a number in the vicinity?”
“Ef there war, I’d’ve heard of ’em afore. This is some varmint, sneakin’ round yer, and he’s got to be rubbed out afore he makes more trouble.”
“I fear that will be a difficult and dangerous job.”
“Let me be for that.”
Shortly after we reached our home, and running the canoe beneath the bushes, entered it. We were somewhat surprised to find Nat absent. He returned, however, in a short time, and I saw at once by his nervous, flustered manner that something unusual had occurred. Biddon questioned him rather closely, as he suspected something, but Nat evaded his inquiries, and would not admit that he had seen anything to excite alarm or apprehension.
“I’m goin’ out, and when I come back I’ll tell you what’s the matter with them traps,” said Biddon, seizing his rifle and departing.
I waited until he was beyond hearing, and then turning to my companion, asked,