“How did he look?”
“He was dressed in Injun toggery.”
“That’s the devil. I’d like to help lynch that black cur.”
“Why?”
Fred hesitated, as he recollected his promise to Alta. “But,” he thought, “I owe it to her to clear this business up.” Then he opened his heart and told Uncle Dave the whole story.
The old trapper followed with eager interest. He studied a moment when the boy had done, then said quietly, “Looks like we’ve found the snake’s trail, boy; looks like it. But it’s too late to foller it to-night. Let’s get some sleep to clear our eyes.”
He rose stiffly as he spoke and walked over to the cot in the corner.
“You’d better tumble in here,” he said; “I’ll pitch this old robe and a few blankets on the floor.”
“No, indeed, I’ll sleep on the floor; you must keep your bed.” Fred’s objection was not to be overruled, so Uncle Dave yielded. They tucked themselves cosily under the covers and lay there listening to the patter of the rain till it sang them both to sleep.