Harrigan mistrusted Cameron, yet he dared not refuse. As the door closed behind him the sheriff swung toward Cameron.
“Now, out with it!” The tone was like the snapping of pine in the flames.
“How in—” began Cameron, but the sheriff’s quick gesture silenced him.
“Here they be,” said Jim. “Three shells I picked up ’bout two rods from the trail. Injun Pete might ’a’ took young Ross for a deer onct, but three times—”
Harrigan’s hand was on the door-knob. The sheriff swept the shells into his pocket.
“Thanks, Denny,” he said, as he emptied the magazine and laid the rifle on the table. “A 30-30 is a good deer gun, but it’s liable to over-shoot an inch or two at short range.”
CHAPTER X—BARNEY AXEL’S EXODUS
Indian Pete’s death was the talk of Tramworth for a month. The “Sentinel” printed a vivid account of the tragedy, commenting on the Indian as having been a crack shot and emphasizing the possibility of even experienced hunters making grave mistakes. Much to the sheriff’s disgust the article concluded with, “In again reviewing this tragedy, one important fact should not be overlooked. The Indian fired three shots at the supposed deer. This information we have from a trustworthy source.” In a later issue the sheriff read, “Mr. Ross visited Tramworth last week, accompanied by the brave animal that so nobly avenged the alleged ‘mistake,’ as described in a recent issue of this paper. Both seem to be in excellent health.”
This issue of the “Sentinel” eventually reached the lumber-camps clustered about the spot where township lines Nine and Fifteen intersected. It was read with the eager interest that such an article would create in an isolated community that had known and liked or disliked “Injun Pete.” Some of the lumbermen expressed approval of the dog, appreciating the unerring instinct of animals in such cases. Others expressed a sentimental sympathy for the Indian, and Smoke’s history would have been a brief one had their sanguinary threats been executed. Most of the men seemed to consider David Ross as a victim of circumstance rather than an active participant in the affair. Yet in one shadowy corner of the main camp it was recalled by not a few that Ross had made Harrigan “take the count,” had in fact whipped him in fair fight. There were head-shakings and expressive silences over this; silences because Harrigan had friends in the camp, and he was czar.
One evening, much to the surprise of every one, Barney Axel, who had been gloomily uncommunicative heretofore, gave them something to think about, especially as he was regarded as Harrigan’s closest friend, and a man prone to keep his own counsel.