"I thought the hut had a human atmosphere. There were fresh tracks around, and the station-master spoke to me about a scoundrel that's been frightening the country-folks—frightening them by running away from them, as far as I could see. But you don't suppose he was fern-gathering down in that swamp, do you?"
"Hardly," said McCausland. "Could you take us there now?"
"Now? I've my lecture at Hilo hall—A Study in Ingratitude; or, the Threatened Extinction of the Great Horned Owl."
"It is an important piece of evidence in the Floyd case," said Shagarach, though McCausland still smiled incredulously. "We want the occupant of that hut."
"Robert's case. Command me," said Dr. Silsby. "Sorry Mr. Hutman wasn't at home when I called. I'd have had him here dead or alive."
"Wolf!" said McCausland. The great dog started up, wagging his tail. "Smell." He offered him the revolver butt. The hound barked and smelled his way to the door again, but McCausland pulled him back.
"It is our man," he said, thrusting the paper-weight in his pocket.
"My pathfinder, Aronson," said Shagarach, who sprung to his desk.
"The next train for Woodlawn doesn't leave till 4:03."
"We can go more quickly by team," said McCausland. "I will have one here in ten minutes."