"She's knocked silly," Oliver murmured to the surgeon. "The child doesn't know what she's saying."
"You're right. Clean blunted," was the answer. "But I'll straighten 'em both out by noon."
A long halloo summoned the captain to the door. A group of men were gathered in the swale between the shack and Shanty Town. Fraser was among them. Oliver signalled, and the young officer wheeled and came galloping in.
"What is it?"
"Old man's gun, discharged, out there in the grass——"
"Yes?"
"And two sets of footprints coming and going across that bit of low ground. One set looks about two days old, and was made by boots. Other is newer, and made by moccasins."
"Ah!"
"There's something strange about these last: Coming this way, the marks are so light you can hardly see 'em; going back, they're sunk way down."
"Carried a load, eh?"