The evidence on which he arrived at this conclusion was slender, but Stanton signified assent.
“Well,” he said, “where’s the hurt man?”
“I’ve a notion he’s in yonder muskeg. The other fellow could have packed him there on the led horse—the blood spots point to it—though he might have hid him farther on in a bluff. It’s getting too dark to search now; we’ll try to-morrow. But I guess we know who he is.”
“Sure,” said Stanton. “I’ll swear to the hat. Chaffed Jernyngham about it one day, and he put it in my hands and said there wasn’t another of the kind in the country. A man from Hong Kong gave it to him.”
Curtis took up the bill.
“Five dollars, Merchants’ Bank, and quite clean; not been issued long. We’ll find out if they’ve a branch at Regina or Saskatoon and trace up the fellow they paid it to. The button doesn’t count—quite a common pattern. Now if you’ll fill the kettle at the creek, I’ll start a fire. We’ll camp near the birch scrub yonder.”