Tomlinson started a little, and there was for a moment a curious look in his face, which did not escape the corporal's attention.
"No," he said shortly. "I don't know that I want to. What is he doing here?"
"He went out to meet an Indian who's to show us a trail across the divide," said the corporal. "Rode out 'most an hour ago. He'd keep the range side."
"Then, as I came down the south fork of the creek, I wouldn't have met him, anyway," said Tomlinson promptly. He stood still a moment, and then turned to Ingleby. "Hang that deer up, Walter. I'll have supper, if it's ready."
Sewell set food and a can of green tea before him, and he ate in silence until Ingleby glanced at him.
"Did you get that deer a little while ago?" he said.
"No. It was two hours since, anyway."
"Still, we heard you shooting."
Tomlinson, who was an excellent shot, and somewhat proud of the fact, laughed in a slightly embarrassed fashion.
"Well," he said, "I guess you may have done so, but I didn't get the deer. It was in the fern, and the light was going. I just got the one shot, and it was too dark to follow up the trail."