“Absolutely correct,” answered Piper, while Springer merely nodded.
“You were following the tracks of some one supposed to have shot Barker’s dog, were you?”
“We were hot on the trail of the scoundrel,” said Sleuth. “Only for the snowstorm, we’d tracked him to his lair.”
“Did you see Barker find my handkerchief?”
“You bet we did.”
“He claims to have found it hanging on a bush. Were you near at hand when he made the discovery?”
“Phil was about five feet behind him, and I was close behind Phil,” replied Sleuth.
“Are you positive Barker did not hang the handkerchief on the bush and then call your attention to it?”
Springer suddenly burst into derisive laughter.
“Now what do you think of that!” he cried. “If that isn’t about the poorest attempt I ever knew of to struggle out of a thing, I’ll eat my huh-hat! It won’t do, Mr. Grant—it won’t dud-do.”