All evening the Professor was plainly trying to get a word alone with him, but Stamford had no wish to be questioned, and he gave no opportunity.
CHAPTER XXI
THE RAFT IN THE CANYON
Next morning Stamford started off the instant breakfast was over, but he did not go further than the cook-house. He found it deserted, the outfit having departed the day before on what promised to be a three or four days' expedition. Stamford poked about the cook-house and bunk-house with a vague idea of coming on clues left carelessly exposed. In the midst of it the Professor walked in on him.
"Oh, I thought you were gone for the day," said the Professor, "and I hoped our friends of the funny names might be back."
"I'm going now," Stamford returned shortly, and walked away, though the Professor called to him.
From among the rocks on the river-bank he saw the buckboard pass around the corrals and make for the ford. He followed.
Somewhere that herd of cattle in the little valley had crossed the river, and he was determined to discover where. He had rather definite ideas about them that led him to expect no information from the ford.
In that he quickly proved himself right. He had seen, even from where he lay on the opposite cliff, that most of the cattle had been in the valley a long time; that was evident from their plumpness and undisturbed feeding. The more recent arrivals were betrayed by their rougher coats and leaner bodies, and by a wilder fling of the head when the Professor approached them. There had been no rain on the Red Deer in two months; their tracks, were there any, would show plainly enough in the mud approaches to the ford.
But there was nothing there save the hoof-marks of the Professor's team and a few dim old hollows that must have been there from the spring.