“Nothing.”
Chip got up from the chopping block and dramatically planted himself in front of Walter. “Say, what’s chewing you, anyway?” he demanded. “You don’t mean to tell us that you still think Pat innocent!”
“I’m not going to think him guilty until there is some proof,” replied Walter doggedly.
“Proof!” Chip fairly yelped the word out. “Proof! Haven’t I given you proof enough? What more do you want?” Chip flung himself down on the chopping block in sheer disgust.
“It’s wholly circumstantial evidence, and—and——” Walter hesitated.
“And what?” demanded Chip. “Spit it out!”
“Why, the fact is——” Walter hesitated again.
“Come on! Come on! Out with it!” Tug broke in.
“Well, there is another pair of hobnailed boots of the same size in our own camp, and three nails are missing from the right one!”
Chip and Tug stared at him blankly. Then Tug gave vent to a long whistle of incredulity. “Say,” he demanded, “what kind of a bunco steer are you givin’ us, anyway? Say that over again, you sawed off pocket edition of Sherlock Holmes!”