Rube had gone back to the footprints, and was intently examining them when Kiddie went up to him.
"Well," queried Kiddie, always interested in Rube's investigations, whatever they happened to be.
"This is where he mounted," said Rube. "Here's where he stood when he was fastening the cinch of the saddle. Nick ain't such a clever criminal as I thought. I wonder at him leavin' his bootprints scattered about like this. Why didn't he mount from the grass?"
"He was certainly careless," agreed Kiddie. "Looks as if he'd been in a precious hurry to get away with the boodle. You're sure, I suppose, that it was Nick Undrell who wore boots like those that made these marks?"
"What makes me certain," said Rube, "is the missin' nail. I noticed it that day when we were bringin' along your outfit from Laramie. You've got to remember, too, that Nick's bin seen prowlin' around on your property here."
"Go ahead, then, Rube," urged Kiddie. "Follow up your clues, and don't waste time."
Kiddie himself did not appear to take much active interest in tracking the criminal. He knew that a large quantity of his most valuable possessions had been stolen, but he still considered the killing of his dog the most serious injury that had been done to him, and while Isa and Rube made their way towards the cabin, he again went back to where Sheila lay dead.
When he rejoined his two companions they were still searching for tracks outside the cabin.
"Thar wasn't more'n one of 'em at it," Rube told him. "If there'd bin a second, he'd sure have left some sort of clue; but we've found only the one set of bootprints."
"Have you looked near the window?" Kiddie asked.