“Nonsense! Those boys wouldn’t play us such a trick. Nor did they follow us.”
“Huh! Didn’t know that anybody else was following us,” said Dig.
“Perhaps this fellow wasn’t on our trail. Maybe he stumbled on this camp. The fire—or the wolves themselves—might have drawn him.”
Chet was thinking hard, however. At once, when he had discovered the footprint which proclaimed a white marauder, he remembered what Amoshee, the lame Cheyenne boy, had told him.
There was a strange man who was interested in the old Crayton mine and therefore was interested in this trip to Grub Stake. This stranger had joined forces with the discharged Tony Traddles. Chet had heard Tony himself threaten Mr. Havens and declare he would “get square” with his former employer.
Chet looked at the print of the large boot in the soft soil. Tony Traddles might stand in boots like that. And if Tony was here, the man who was trying to get hold of the old Crayton mine was very likely here, too.
The condition looked serious to Chet Havens. He did not want to say anything yet to his chum; but he did propose to keep a sharp watch thereafter.
He was desirous, too, of learning all he could about the midnight marauder. If the mysterious person had stolen only some of the deer meat, why had he taken it?
And if he had come as near the camp as this, why hadn’t he come nearer?
“With both of us sound asleep,” thought Chet, with disgust, “they might have come in and taken anything they liked. It puzzles me!”