“An' here's where that lion lit on the back of the deer. It was a big jump. See the sharp hoof tracks of the deer.” Dale pressed aside tall grass to show dark, rough, fresh tracks of a deer, evidently made by violent action.
“Come on,” called Dale, walking swiftly. “You're sure goin' to see somethin' now.... Here's where the deer bounded, carryin' the lion.”
“What!” exclaimed Bo, incredulously.
“The deer was runnin' here with the lion on his back. I'll prove it to you. Come on, now. Pedro, you stay with me. Girls, it's a fresh trail.” Dale walked along, leading his horse, and occasionally he pointed down into the grass. “There! See that! That's hair.”
Helen did see some tufts of grayish hair scattered on the ground, and she believed she saw little, dark separations in the grass, where an animal had recently passed. All at once Dale halted. When Helen reached him Bo was already there and they were gazing down at a wide, flattened space in the grass. Even Helen's inexperienced eyes could make out evidences of a struggle. Tufts of gray-white hair lay upon the crushed grass. Helen did not need to see any more, but Dale silently pointed to a patch of blood. Then he spoke:
“The lion brought the deer down here an' killed him. Probably broke his neck. That deer ran a hundred yards with the lion. See, here's the trail left where the lion dragged the deer off.”
A well-defined path showed across the swale.
“Girls, you'll see that deer pretty quick,” declared Dale, starting forward. “This work has just been done. Only a few minutes ago.”
“How can you tell?” queried Bo.
“Look! See that grass. It has been bent down by the deer bein' dragged over it. Now it's springin' up.”