"It looks like it." Oliver mounted, and they rode off to the swale.
Noon was past when the captain called at the shack again. He found the surgeon gone, but his promise fulfilled: Food and medicine had gone far to revive his patients physically; tears had mercifully combined with returning strength to right their minds.
This time, the elder girl met Oliver with no incoherence, but with brave quiet. All her self-command had returned. She asked him in, and showed a tender forethought for Marylyn by sending her out into the sunshine and the garden before she listened to what he had to tell. When he was done, she began her story with the finding of the pole.
"Redskins!" he exclaimed.
"Boot-marks were around it, though," she said.
"You are sure? I wish your father had asked my advice. I feel as if I had come short in my duty."
"Please don't," she entreated. "You see, we thought we could tend to it—long's we knew who it was."
He turned astonished eyes upon her. "Knew!" he exclaimed. "Well, for Heaven's sake out with it, then!"
"Matthews—he wanted the land."
"The interpreter! But last night's tracks were made by moccasins. There's one Indian free——"