"Good God!" Valentine muttered anxiously, "what has been done here?"
Without saying a word Trangoil-Lanec placed himself close to the dog; stretched along upon the ground, with his eyes intently fixed upon it, he examined it as closely as if he thought his glance could penetrate it. At the end of a minute he arose, and seated himself by Valentine, who seeing his companion had got a fit of Indian silence, found it necessary to speak first.
"Well, chief," he asked, "what is there fresh?"
"Nothing," the Ulmen replied; "these traces are at least four days old."
"What traces are you speaking of, chief?"
"Traces of blood."
"Of blood!" the young man cried. "Can Doña Rosario have been assassinated?"
"No," the chief replied, "if this blood belonged to her, she has only been wounded; her wound has been dressed."
"Dressed! come, that is too strong, chief!"
"My brother is quick—he does not reflect. Let him look here."