“What ye found?” she demanded.
He showed her the letter.
“Nick Nomad is an old friend of mine. We have hunted and trailed together more times than I can tell you; and he’s true as steel. I thought at first he did that shooting. But I’m convinced he did not. A body of men camped here two nights ago; and at that time, or before that time, Nomad was here, and dropped this letter.”
“Some other man might have had it and dropped it,” she said.
“Yes, that is so. Some other man might have dropped it.”
“Road agents, mebbe. He might have been robbed, and they may have tuck that letter from him, with other things.”
“You’re good at guessing,” the scout admitted. “All of that may be true. I’m of the opinion the large party camping here two nights ago were road agents.”
“He might have j’ined ’em?”
“Impossible. What I’m afraid of is that he was with them as a prisoner.”
“Glory be! Ye don’t mean it?”