“But where is Jim? Where are the dogs?” cried her foster-sister. “Both have been here! See, here are the tracks, and there goes the trail northward!”
It was as she said, and as Dick Bracknell looked down and read the signs a dark look came on his face. Babette looked from her foster-sister, sobbing in the snow, to the man who was her husband.
“What do you think has happened?” she asked.
He looked from her to Joy commiseratingly. “I can only guess,” he said in a troubled voice. “I think the Indian who was with me is responsible for this, the man who brought you to my shack—you know. When you came to the cabin he had instructions to look out for your men at the mouth of the creek. I—I am afraid he exceeded my instructions. I think that he must have attacked your men——”
“But why should he do that, if you did not tell him?”
As Joy flung this question at him, a troubled look came upon his face.
“I think he wanted your dogs and outfit, that we might get away from here!”
“Our dogs and outfit?”
“Yes. He is devoted to me, but twice lately I have had trouble on that point. Once when my cousin Roger Bracknell came——”
He broke off suddenly as Joy sprang to her feet. “Your cousin Roger has been here?” she cried. “He is alive then?”