"I believe they were. We went to look for provisions, and didn't get them, because the place was empty."
"Then how do you account for the fellow's being there alone?"
"I can't account for it," Blake said quietly.
Lane turned to Harding. The American had a theory, but he was not prepared to communicate it to the police.
"It's certainly curious," he said evasively.
"We'll start for the village to-morrow."
"As the Indians are away, there won't be much to be learned," Benson suggested.
"They may have come back. Anyway, it's my business to find out all I can."
Soon afterward they went to sleep; and, rising an hour or two before daylight, they broke camp and turned back across the hills. The march was rough and toilsome, and when they camped at night fatigue and drowsiness checked conversation, but Blake and his comrades were sensible of a difference in Lane's manner. It had become reserved, and he had a thoughtful look. Reaching the village one evening, they were surprised to find that some of the Indians had returned. After supper Lane summoned them into the tepee he occupied. Emile interpreted, but he had some difficulty in making himself understood, for which Harding was inclined to be thankful.
The sergeant began by explaining the authority and business of the North-West Police, of whom it appeared one or two of the Indians had heard. Then he made Emile ask them if they knew Clarke. One of them said that they did, and added that he stayed with them now and then. Lane next asked why they took him in, and the Indian hesitated.