Hector reported the affair to Inspector Denton, at the fort, who promised to send out a large search party at dawn. To continue the hunt at night would have been futile.
Next morning, in a little hollow as yet untouched by the wind, they found the first clue—a sprinkle of blood, among jumbled hoof-prints—and a wide cast revealed Chester's hat in a clump of bushes. They searched the woods. More evidence of a foreboding character was then quickly gathered and the reason why Chester's horse had not returned was made clear.
Hector himself found the horse. It had been led into the woods, tied to a tree and shot.
And then they found Chester himself. The body was lying in the bottom of a deep ravine, where it had been thrown. The foulest of foul work had been done, for he had been shot in the back at short range.
In the days and weeks that followed, they exhausted every resource, but the murder remained an unsolved mystery.
II
"Beg pardon, sir," said MacFarlane, waylaying Inspector Denton as he passed the guard-room. "The In'juns say they'll talk now. And they want you, with the interpreter, sir, and Sergeant Adair."
The Inspector wheeled quickly.
"Good! Splendid!" he exclaimed. "Is Brent back? Then send a man for 'em right away."
Twenty-four hours previously, Hector had carried out the arrest of a gang of Indian horse-thieves, accused of stealing stock from the 'Lazy G,' an 'outfit' in Montana. They had refused to talk, however, having apparently decided to say nothing whatever until the day of trial. Martin was away and the best linguists in the division had been able to produce no effect. MacFarlane's announcement relieved the Inspector's mind considerably.