He opened his left hand. Within the palm lay a tiny bit of thin gray cloth.
"There may not be more than a dozen threads here," he said, "but I found 'em sticking to a thorn bush not twenty yards away. A half hour ago they were a part of a woman's dress. A thorn bush grows among the cedars above. She was in a hurry, and when her dress caught in it she jerked it loose."
"But how do you know it was only a half hour or less ago?" asked Dick.
"Because she broke two 'or three of the thorns when she jerked, and it was so late that their wounds are still bleeding, that is, a faint bit of sap is oozing out at the fractures."
"That sounds conclusive," said Dick, "but likely it was a mountain woman who lives somewhere along the slope."
The sergeant shook his head.
"No, sir, it was no mountain woman," he said. "When I found the cloth on the thorns I knelt and looked for a trail. It's hard ground mostly, but I thought I might find the trace of a footstep somewhere. I found several, and not one of them was made by the flat, broad shoe that mountain women wear. I found small rounded heel prints which the shoes worn by city women make."
"If any city woman is on this mountain she's a long way from home," said Warner.
"But I'm quite sure of what I say, sir," said the sergeant.
"And so am I," said Shepard, who had been listening with the keenest attention. "Will you mind letting me lead the way for a little while, sir?"