"Well, how about these men, Francois; they must have been here last night, you think, don't you?" Ned started to ask him.
"Eet is so, sare. Zey leave zis place just same time we be saying bon jour to our own camp up ze rivaire."
"How many were they?" was Ned's next question; for Francois could not tell his story at length, but seemed to wait to have it drawn from him piece-meal as though he might be a willing witness in the box.
"Thirteen, all men at zat."
"Hunters, trappers, miners, or prospectors?" demanded Ned.
That caused the other to give one of his suggestive shrugs.
"Nozzing like zat right now, sare," he went on to declare, so positively that it was evident he had found the Indian also agreed with him. "Some of zat crowd zey wear ze moccasin ze same as Tamasjo here. Ozzers have boots wiz ze heel. But zey carry no traps along wiz zem, I tell you zat, sare."
"And if they were miners intending to work in the holdings of the syndicate they would have carried tools along, picks, shovels and the like?" remarked Jack.
Francois shook his head in the negative.
"Nozzing like zat, pelieve me, sare," he urged.