At the top of the ascent Kiddie came out upon the farther side of Lone Wolf Mountain, which now interposed between him and Sweetwater Lake. To reach the lake side he must either return as he came, or else cross the next valley and work his way round the base of the mountain. He judged that Rube had not hesitated to take the latter and longer course.
He walked round in a circle, searching for a track in the soft ground, and at last he came upon the impression of Rube's moccasins. He followed their direction. Presently he realized that Rube had been running and that his tracks were leading in quite an unexpected direction.
Greatly wondering, Kiddie went on and on. Then he came to an abrupt stop and stood staring in astonished alarm at the ground. At his feet lay two crumpled up eagle's feathers. A yard or so away from them was Rube's fur cap, pierced by an Indian arrow. And all around were the confused impressions of Indians' feet.
Kiddie drew a long breath as he picked up the boy's hat.
"That's the way of it," he said. "That's why Rube never came back. He's been captured by Indians!"
CHAPTER XV
THE CRY OF THE JAY
Up to the point to which Kiddie had tracked him, Rube Carter had done precisely what Kiddie had conjectured he would do. He had reached the eagles' eyrie just as the mist began to envelop him and cut off his direct retreat.
He had not deliberately startled the birds to flight. The male had been perched like a faithful sentinel on a point of rock, above his mate sitting on her eggs. Rube had a long, close view of the pair of them, and had watched without molesting them. But presently he had the boyish idea that it would be interesting to see and count their eggs, and take note of how their nest was lined.