Alton slowly drew a strip of hide from beneath him, and passed it across. Seaforth and Okanagan bent over it together, their faces showing intent in the light of the fire, while Alton laughed softly as he watched them.
"What do you make of that?" he said.
Seaforth glanced round sharply. "It's a trifle curious. That hide's thick, and yet the beast has evidently broken it, but it pulled up the peg."
"Did you find the peg?" said Alton, and Okanagan swept his glance across the faces before him. Seaforth's expressed bewilderment, Alton's was grim.
"I found one," said Seaforth—"Julius Caesar's."
"Yes," said Alton dryly. "There should have been another, and a horse that breaks his tether can't pull out the peg. Still, I don't think he broke it."
"But," said Seaforth, "the thing is broken."
Tom of Okanagan smiled in a curious fashion while Alton reached out and laid his finger on the hide. "One can't be sure of anything," he said. "Still, one could fancy that had felt the knife before it snapped."
There was silence for almost a minute, and the shadows of the great firs seemed to close in upon the camp. Then Alton rose up and stretched his limbs wearily.
"I am kind of tired," he said. "There's a good deal to be done to-morrow."