It was a dark night, and Rube was sound asleep in his bunk, when Kiddie changed ponies at Sweetwater Bridge on his eastward-bound trip; but Kiddie made time to ask Abe Harum if Sheila had returned.
Abe told him that she was then in her kennel, but added nothing about her condition. On the following day, however, when he returned home for a spell of rest, it was Rube who met him on the trail.
"Seems Abe told you as the hound had come back," began Rube. "It was my fault she followed you. I couldn't hardly help lettin' her loose. Thar was no holdin' her in. She got up t' you, then? How long was she gettin' abreast o' you? I guess you hadn't gotten far, eh? Gee! how she did cover the ground!"
"Why," Kiddie answered, "she was alongside o' me inside of six miles from here. Good going, wasn't it?"
"Sure," agreed Rube. "But she didn't come back so quick, Kiddie, nothin' like it. Did yer know she'd a cut on her shoulder?"
"Eh—a cut?" Kiddie started in vexed surprise. "Is it bad?"
"Oh, no," Rube assured him, "makes her limp some. But I've doctored th' wound, an' it's gettin' along all right. Come an' have a squint at it."
He brought the dog out, giving no expression to his own theory. Kiddie examined the wound.
"Cut of a knife," he decided immediately.
"Thar was blood on her mouth," said Rube. "I washed it. 'Twasn't her own blood."