“I don’t know—Old Copperhead, I believe the boys called their chief. They seemed to be a hunting party, but they acted sulky and disappeared about as suddenly as they came.”
The mountaineer’s face looked puzzled for a moment. “I reckon that’s the bunch that’s holed up in that cove to the south o’ here. I caught sight of their tepees a few days back when I was out prospectin’ fer beaver. I can’t quite make out why they’re hidin’ thar; looks like some deviltry to me; and what makes me think it more is that bunch I seen sneakin’ up the creek a little while back—’bout a dozen young bucks. There was a half-breed, or a dirty white with ’em. They didn’t see me, but I watched ’em as they skulked along through the willows. Had their ponies loaded with meat. Struck me at the time they hadn’t come by it honestly.”
Fred’s face lighted with the thought that flashed through his mind. “I’ll bet those devils did it.”
“Did what?”
“Killed my cattle.”
“You lost some?”
“Yes, two head were missing. I found one shot dead. The other never turned up. That was one reason I left the ranch. The boss got mad because I wouldn’t give away one of the boys that had roped and killed another.”
“Maybe so, boy, maybe so.”
“You say a white was in the band?”
“Yes.”