“Count me in on that!” exclaimed Will, rushing out of his impromptu dark-room, and waving the bottle in which he was making a solution of hypo.

“I think I’ll go along, too,” remarked Frank, appearing from some other place.

When the party started forth presently, there were six of them with the horse—­the chums, Reddy, and Mr. Mabie himself.

“I am beginning to believe you boys will corral everything in sight if you keep on the way you’ve started.  A grizzly, a sheep, and now an elk; and only thirty hours with me!  H’m!  Perhaps I may not be able to show you as much about big-game hunting as I expected,” said the stockman, who seemed vastly amused at the energy shown by his young guests at the ranch.

“Oh, we can pull a trigger, all right, sir, but there are a thousand things we want to know about these natives that books never teach.  I’m like a sponge, and can keep on soaking up information all the time,” laughed Frank.

Incautiously, Bluff let fall certain words that gave Jerry a clue as to the true situation.

“A tree!  Shot him downward from a tree, eh?  Now, since you’ve so frankly confessed that much, why not tell the whole blooming story, Bluff?” he cried.

“There isn’t much to it.  I saw the elk.  Then I shot him, and he fell over.  After that the elk saw me.  He chased me about a tree.  I remembered how fast Jerry said he ran around when those wild dogs were after him, and I wanted to go him just one better.  Then I found a chance to climb when the wounded elk stumbled.  After that I made a rope out of my handkerchief and fished with a loop until I caught the barrel of my gun.  That’s all.”

“A whole history in a nutshell.  But we must be getting near the place, according to what you said at the start.  There are the three oaks growing in a clump.  Now where’s your dead elk?”

As Frank spoke he turned to Bluff.  That individual was staring around in evident bewilderment.

“It was sure here I met him.  There’s the little glade, and this big tree is the one I climbed up into.  I saw him lying there.  I know he was dead when I bled him.  But I must be blind, for the elk certainly is not here now.  Oh!  Did he come to life again, and run away?” said poor Bluff, in despair, looking at the tail, which he had thrust into his belt.

CHAPTER XII

HARD LUCK

“Talk to me about your dreamers!” muttered Jerry, shrugging his shoulders.

“But I tell you it was so!” asserted Bluff, firing up.

“The boy is right,” said Mr. Mabie, as he stepped forward and fastened his eyes upon the ground.

Frank saw immediately what the stockman had in mind.  These things mentioned by Bluff could never have happened without leaving some tangible traces behind.  Where a big elk had been slain there must be signs of the blood that had flowed.