"That Forest Ranger. He's a Government officer."
Kit Carson arrived, staring, with more water.
"I know you!" he panted. He signed to us, pointing at the man's feet. "You were at that other camp!" And Jed and I looked and saw the hole in the left sole—although both soles were badly burned, now. By that mark he was the beaver man! He wriggled uneasily as if he had a notion to sit up.
"Well, if you want it so bad, and it's yours, take it." And in a jiffy I had cut it loose with my knife. "It's been a hoodoo to me. How did you know I was at any other camp? Are you those three kids?"
"We saw your tracks," I answered. "What three kids?"
"The three kids those other fellows had corralled."
"No, but we're their partners. We're looking for them."
He'd had another drink of water and his face squinted at us, as we fussed about him. Kit took off one of the shoes and I the other, to get at the blistered feet.
"Never saw you before, did I?"
"Maybe not."