“Shaughnessy—it was Tom Shaughnessy’s money that was looted, eh? Wonder why he sent—hang it all! I’ll bet there was something crooked in that holdup—just because it was Tom’s money! I wonder if there was real money in that package? Yes, of course there must have been, because the express agent wouldn’t have taken it on the blind. Um-um! Wonder if somebody who had been robbed by Shaughnessy, or some of his gang, didn’t know it was being shipped and played even?”
He thought of the numerous crooked deals and gouges perpetrated by the boss of Wallula and his associates, all of whom had once been driven from the camp of Sky Gap by the more reputable citizens, and of the longstanding feud between this gang, himself, his lifelong partner Goliath, and his new partner Hank Mills, and grinned cheerfully as he thought, “Well, if any poor cuss has played even with Shaughnessy he’s got my support. Luck to him!”
After again consulting his watch David leisurely struck back from the road, taking to the hillside in nearly the same place from which he had emerged, and climbed upward toward the crest. He paused after a few minutes and looked back toward the road that now lay considerably below and again his mind worked round the incident of the stage robbery.
“That would be the right place down there,” he ruminated as his keen gray eyes scanned the white line that wound beneath. “And a man standing here would have had a grand-stand seat all to himself to watch the whole show. Or, if the chap that turned that trick had wanted to find a place to have a good look at the stage before he held it up he could have stood here, seen her as she came around that stretch up above, and then have had time to get down to that point and throw his gun on Bill as she came round that bend.”
As if this thought proved interesting David began to scan the brush and ground near by and almost instantly stopped in an attitude of surprise and whistled a note of astonishment; for all unexpectedly he had blundered on to a place where a man evidently had rested for some time. Had David been asked if he were an expert trailer he would probably have denied such craft; but Goliath, his huge partner, would have asserted that there was no man on all that great range who could “read sign” like this same wiry, alert, active, ferret-eyed man who now began moving around in a bent attitude peering at every impression in the earth, at every crushed bunch of grass, and at every broken twig of brush. David seemed actually exultant when he found a stump of a cigar which had been chewed as if nervous teeth had worked upon it long after its fire had expired. A minute later he found the gaudy band, frowned at it for a time, and then put it into his pocketbook, wrapped the cigar in his handkerchief, pocketed that also, and resumed his search. He paused over each footprint and again brightened when he found one in a patch of moist earth and sand that was clear and distinct. He got to his hands and knees and taking an old letter from his pocket carefully cut it out into an exact pattern of the footmark and with a stub of a pencil marked thereon every nail, noting little peculiarities of position as well as the fact that on the heel there was the imprint of a small iron plate almost new.
“That right boot heel was old, and the man had the plate put on because the heel was beginning to run over a little bit,” David muttered. “Maybe he was a little bowlegged. Anyhow, he treads heavier on the outer edge of his heel than on the ball of his hoof. Must find a mark of his left foot that’s clear.” He continued his trailing. Finally this search was rewarded and again he paused and made another pattern, reasoning as he did so, “Nope, the man wasn’t bowlegged, and the left heel had no plate and so doesn’t wear off like the right. That shows that most likely he hits the right heel harder because he either limps a little or has had that right leg or foot hurt some time so that it steps just a trifle different from the other one. One thing is sure; he’s a heavy man, and those marks were made by a town man’s shoes and not by any miner’s brogans or boots.”
Yard by yard he followed the telltale trail until he had worked it out thoroughly in his own mind that the unknown man had been restless and moved about somewhat aimlessly as if his wait and watch had lasted for some time. Then came another discovery, that the man had seated himself or crouched down behind a heavy clump of brush and remained there for some time, occasionally with restless movements as if intensely interested in observing something while at the same time taking precautions to remain in hiding. David had put himself into the same position and found that he could look through small openings in the brush which had been made larger by hands twisting off one or two of the branches, and that he had an exact bird’s-eye view of the spot in the road where the stage robbery had taken place. On making this discovery David once more uttered a tiny whistle and mused, “Uh-huh! That’s the way, eh? There were two of them in it instead of one, as Bill, the driver, and the deputy sheriffs think. Maybe the one up here had a rifle beaded down on the stage all the time so that if it came to any sort of a show-down he could pot Bill or bring down a horse to make the game certain.”
He devoted some time to seeking the marks where a rifle butt might have been rested and was disappointed because he could find nothing to bear out his reasoning. He still hoped to find some such indication, as he had made a complete detour and picked up the trails where the watcher had come and gone. They led away to the road below at a long angle and, proving that patience with keenness has its reward, David now made another most important find. It was nothing less than a coin watch charm with the few links connecting it to the chain from which it had been broken, at sight of which David’s eyes widened as if he had found something unbelievable.
“Lord! Who’d of thought it! Wish Goliath or Hank was here with me so that if it comes to a show-down I could have a witness to prove that I did find this thing, and that it was here that I found it,” he muttered aloud, and at the sound of his own voice looked around as if startled, then after putting the charm and piece of chain in his pocketbook, carefully marked the spot where he had found them by notching the bottom of some brush with his pocketknife. He resumed the trail which led him down into the main road where still another cause for conjecture was exposed. This was that the trail had debouched almost exactly at a point where a smaller road branched off into the hills. This road David recognized as a private one that led to the Calora Mine, distant about two miles. The trail was lost, but David, now as keen as a bloodhound on a chase, turned off into the private road and followed it for some distance in the hope of again finding imprints of the crooked boot heel, but without success. He finally gave this up and was returning to the main road when he made another discovery and brightened eagerly.
“Horse and buggy been stopped here for some time,” ran through his mind. “Didn’t notice that as I went up because I was too busy looking for foot signs. Wonder who it could have been, and why? Couldn’t be seen here from the stage road. Maybe it turned round and went back into the main road; or maybe it didn’t come from the main road at all. Wish I could have found this before so many teams from the Calora had driven over it. Maybe, though, I can find some sort of tracks that’ll show⸺”