"Here, Jack, has been a man, horse, and buffalo killed," I said as he halted, "and from the looks of things, I think it happened about a year ago. Help me to read the signs. The horse was a white man's horse, for the hoofs, you see, have shoes on."
"That ain't sure proof," replied he, "for the horse might have been lately captured or stolen from the whites. But, hold on!" he exclaimed after a moment's survey of the bone-yard, as, stooping, he picked up what proved to be the lower jaw-bone of the human skull. "This settles it. This says he was a white man, for here's a gold plug in one tooth."
"Well, that settles one important point," I replied. "But how did the buffalo, man, and horse happen to die so close together?"
"Seems to me," said Jack, still walking about scrutinizing the relics, "it could have happened in only one or two ways. Either the man and his horse have been killed by a wounded bull, an' the bull then fell an' died with 'em, or—which is more likely—the man killed the buffalo an', while busy cutting some of the meat out, was corralled by Injuns. How do you read it?"
"The signs disprove your first proposition, Jack," I answered, "but confirm the second. If it had been an accident from a wounded bull there would be some such remains as the metallic parts of his gun or pistol, or buttons, spurs, buckles, and so forth; but you see there's not a thing of that kind to be seen. If he was killed by Indians they would have carried off all his and his horse's equipments; and I think that is what happened."
"I guess you're right," admitted Jack. "It must have been the work of Injuns."
"It must have been the work of Injuns."
Just then he stopped and picked up an old bleached buffalo shoulder-blade that seemed to have been carefully placed, flat side down, on top of the weather-whitened skull of the older set of bones. "Halloo! what's this?" he exclaimed excitedly as he began scanning the bone. "Here it is, Peck. This'll tell us something about it if we can only make out the writing. See if you can make it out."
On the flat side of the shoulder-blade was dimly pencilled a partially obliterated and nervously written inscription. It was without date, and yet enough of the wording was legible to enable us to make out the following message from the dead man: