“Look here, and see for yourself, Jerry.”  And Mr. Mabie pointed to the ground at his feet.

“There’s some marks of hoofs around, I admit, and they seem to circle about the tree, just as Bluff says; and—­yes, that’s blood on the ground, as sure as you live!  I guess I’m on the wrong track.  He did have a merry circus.  He did shoot an elk, but where has the blooming thing gone?” exclaimed the scoffer.

“That’s just what I’m going to find out through Reddy, here.  He has some local reputation as a tracker.  Put your nose down to it, and let us know what happened, Reddy.”

In accordance with the request of the ranchman, the cowboy threw himself upon his hands and knees.

“Indians!” he announced, before they had taken half a dozen breaths.

“What?” cried Bluff, staring hard.

“Cree Indians been here.  I can see the print of their moccasins plain as day; and here’s where they dragged the elk along, heading toward the river!”

Reddy seemed to have not the slightest trouble in reading the signs, and yet to the boys there was not the faintest vestige of marks.  Presently, however, Frank was able to make out the print of a foot in the soil, and he noted that the one who made it wore no heels.  His footwear must be moccasins.

“H’m!” remarked Mr. Mabie.  “Just what I suspected.  The thieving Crees have robbed our young friend of his prize.  Too bad!  But there are more elk around, Bluff, and I hope you’ll have other chances.”

“But that one chased me so hard I wanted revenge.  I calculated on eating a bit of his flank for my dinner.  What’s the matter with our following up the scamps, and making them give up some of my game, anyhow?” demanded the disappointed hunter.

“Impossible just now.  The river is close by, and they undoubtedly had boats in which they fled, carrying off your elk.  By this time they’ve shot the rapids, and must be miles below.  Possibly we may run across the rascals later, when we also go down the river,” replied Mr. Mabie.

Reddy had gone off, his head bent low, and they understood that he was following the trail, much as a hound would have done, with this one difference, that whereas a dog pursues by scent alone, the cowboy had to depend on his eyes.

“But if game is so plentiful, why should these Crees want to steal my elk?” pursued Bluff, who could not be easily satisfied.

“That bothers me to answer.  Perhaps they happened to be out of ammunition.  There are several other explanations, but in my opinion the most probable is the natural meanness of certain dusky bucks; just as your able tramp refuses to do a lick of work, while he’ll walk twenty miles for nothing,” smiled the other.

“There comes Reddy back.  Perhaps he knows more about it now,” said Frank, who was decidedly interested in the enigma.

They waited until the cowboy joined the circle about the tree.