"But I tell you it was so!" asserted Bluff, firing up.
"The boy is right," said Mr. Mabie, as he stepped forward and fastened his eyes upon the ground.
Frank saw immediately what the stockman had in mind. These things mentioned by Bluff could never have happened without leaving some tangible traces behind. Where a big elk had been slain there must be signs of the blood that had flowed.
"Look here, and see for yourself, Jerry." And Mr. Mabie pointed to the ground at his feet.
"There's some marks of hoofs around, I admit, and they seem to circle about the tree, just as Bluff says; and—yes, that's blood on the ground, as sure as you live! I guess I'm on the wrong
track. He did have a merry circus. He did shoot an elk, but where has the blooming thing gone?" exclaimed the scoffer.
"That's just what I'm going to find out through Reddy, here. He has some local reputation as a tracker. Put your nose down to it, and let us know what happened, Reddy."
In accordance with the request of the ranchman, the cowboy threw himself upon his hands and knees.
"Indians!" he announced, before they had taken half a dozen breaths.
"What?" cried Bluff, staring hard.