Dick was still thinking of Jasper Williams.
“I wonder if he could have been here, and gone again,” he remarked.
“Oh! I had about lost track of what we were coming out after—you mean the scout, Williams. And, sure enough, he isn’t here, is he, Dick? Now, that’s another disappointment. We might have found him waiting for some message from the Mandan chief. Well, there’s only one thing we can do—camp here, and wait for one or the other to show up—game, or Jasper.”
“The Wolf seems to be examining something on the ground, which, I take it, must be tracks,” announced Dick.
“Then perhaps our man has been here, and gone again?” ventured Roger, in a startled tone.
“No, because he was to leave some sign behind him, a bark message in the crotch of a stick, perhaps, and there’s nothing of the kind around, Roger, you see.”
“Well, but the Wolf seems to be bending over more than ever. Do you think it can be game he scents? Why, there are dozens of tracks here, and I don’t see how any particular set could interest him,” Roger continued.
“Let’s go forward and see for ourselves,” Dick suggested.
As they came alongside the Mandan brave he pointed to certain marks at his feet. Both lads saw that these were the faint impressions of moccasins. But that in itself gave them no cause for uneasiness, and it was not until the Wolf pointed once more, and uttered a word they took to be “Sioux,” that they understood. Some of the deadly enemies of the Mandans had only recently been at the salt-lick; and that might mean they were contemplating an attack on the great Mandan village, hardly more than half a day’s journey away.
Efforts had plainly been made to erase the footprints, which would indicate that the Sioux had some reason for not wanting their enemies to know of their presence so close by.