“Good!” said Cameron. “Now,” said he, turning swiftly upon the young Indian, “where is the skin?”
The Indian's eyes wavered for a fleeting instant. He spoke a few words to Trotting Wolf. Conversation followed.
“Well?” said Cameron.
“He says dogs eat him up.”
“And the head? This big fellow had a big head. Where is it?”
Again the Indian's eyes wavered and again the conversation followed.
“Left him up in bush,” replied the chief.
“We will ride up and see it, then,” said Cameron.
The Indians became voluble among themselves.
“No find,” said the Chief. “Wolf eat him up.”