Cameron sat smoking in silence. He was completely at a loss.
“Why go to the Bloods?” he asked of Jerry.
“Dunno.”
Jerry was not strong in his constructive faculty. His powers were those of observation.
“There is no sense in them going to the Blood Reserve, Jerry,” said Cameron impatiently. “The Bloods are a pack of thieves, we know, but our people are keeping a close watch on them.”
Jerry grunted acquiescence.
“There is no big Indian camping ground on the Blood Reserve. You wouldn't get the Blackfeet to go to any pow-wow there.”
Again Jerry grunted.
“How far did you follow their trail, Jerry?”
“Two—t'ree mile.”