CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Three Crows
“You don’t suppose,” Sandy suggested, and the words came out hesitantly, “that he was killed by the lion? That he walked right across his path?”
“The lion came down from above us,” Mr. Cook pointed out. “There’s no guarantee that Joe went in that direction.”
“But the smoke,” Sandy countered. “You said it was coming from the mountain.”
“Yes, but how do we know he went looking for the men that built the fire? It seemed to me he didn’t especially want to meet them. He probably went back down the trail to Mormon Crossing.”
“That’s true,” Sandy admitted. “Except for one thing. It doesn’t sound like Joe.”
“I go along with Sandy,” Mike asserted. “Joe isn’t the kind of person who backs away from trouble.”
“Say, hold on for a minute,” Hank interrupted. “You people seem to know an awful lot more than I do.” He turned to Mr. Cook. “What did you mean just now when you said something about the men who built the fire? Have you seen anybody on your trip upriver?”
Mr. Cook quickly filled Hank in on the story of Joe’s mishap back in Salmon. Hank listened attentively, without unnecessary interruptions. Mr. Cook told him Joe’s story about the three Crow Indians and ended up describing Joe’s reaction the night above Cutthroat Rapids when they saw the mysterious smoke on the horizon. “It’s all too much of a pattern for me to believe it’s coincidence,” Mr. Cook concluded.
“But what kind of a pattern?”