You see, you didn’t shoot Mr. Sedgwick, after all.
“Three, of course. I had forgotten the circus-wagon man. He came later. But, Jim, you see it wasn’t Mr. Sedgwick.”
“What he follow for?” demanded the other savagely.
“No evil purpose. You can take his trail from the circus wagon and follow that, if you want to satisfy yourself further that he wasn’t here. I’ll let you have the lantern. Only, remember, now! No more shooting at the wrong man!”
The half-breed made no reply.
“And you, Sedgwick. Here’s the destroyer. Do you still want to kill him?”
“I suppose not,” replied the artist lifelessly.
“Since his design was only against your life and not against your picture,” commented Kent with a smile. “Well, our night’s work is done.” Lifting the lantern, he held it in the face of the half-breed. “Jim!”
“Huh?”
“When you really want to know who made those footprints, come and tell me who the body in Annalaka burying-ground is. A trade for a trade. You understand?”