“I told him about our finding it and the tracks. He said the other fellows put the skull there. One of them is an Assiniboin.”
Walter was puzzled. “If that is true,—if those men really did that, they must have reached the hills two or three days ago. We found the skull yesterday.”
“That’s so.” Neil rubbed his red head thoughtfully. “That rather spoils his story of making speed straight through from Portage la Prairie, doesn’t it?”
“He lied,” concluded Louis emphatically. “Somewhere he lied, either about himself or about the placing of the skull on the Tête de Boeuf. What was he like, that fellow, and who is he? What is his name? Where does he belong?”
“He didn’t tell me his name, but he is a DeMeuron from St. Boniface. He asked so many questions that I didn’t think till afterwards that he hadn’t mentioned his name. He asked mine and yours.”
“He knew you were not here alone then?”
“Oh yes, I told him I expected you two back any moment. He kept looking at our furs, and I thought he had better know we were three to one.”
“Three to three perhaps,” said Louis thoughtfully, “if the others are still near here. They may not have parted at all.”
“I’m sure they have quarreled. He was telling the truth about that. You should have seen his face when he spoke of those other fellows, and he warned me against them, you know.”
“That is true,” Louis conceded, “but his stories do not agree and we had best not trust them too far.”