"Take a good look at him, Jim," said Blackstock.
The dog sniffed the body all over, and then looked up at his master as if for further directions.
"An' now take a sniff at this." And he pointed to the rifled bag.
"What do you make of it?" he inquired when the dog had smelt it all over minutely.
Jim stood motionless, with ears and tail drooping, the picture of irresolution and bewilderment.
Blackstock took out again the paper which he had just put away, and offered it to the clog, who nosed it carefully, then looked at the dead body beside the pool, and growled softly.
"Seek him, Jim," said Blackstock.
At once the dog ran up again to the body, and back to the open book. Then he fell to circling about the bag, nose to earth, seeking to pick up the elusive trail.
At this point the crowd from the village, unable longer to restrain their eagerness, surged forward, led by Hawker, and closed in, effectually obliterating all trails. Jim growled angrily, showing his long white teeth, and drew back beside the body as if to guard it. Blackstock stood watching his action with a brooding scrutiny.
"What's that bit o' paper ye found under him, Tug?" demanded Hawker vehemently.