“Boats, Reddy?” asked Mr. Mabie.

“Three.  Must have carried around the falls without our knowing it.  Hung about here, waiting to steal something from our camp.  Had a snare set for jack-rabbits.  Saw some torn skins in the camp,” was what the cowboy replied, in his jerky way.

“Oh!  Then I guess they must have been here before we came, and all you say makes me believe I was right.  They have no arms, or else their powder and shot have run out; and for some reason they are afraid to meet whites.  Well, the elk’s gone, and we can’t mend that.  Let’s return to camp.  You have the tail to show for your little adventure, my lad.”

“Yes, sir; and the memory of it all, which will haunt me for a good long time,” said Bluff, with a shake of his head, as he contemplated the historic tree around which he had done a little Marathon.

“But I mean to get a picture of this tree, anyhow, just to remind Bluff how valuable a good pair of sprinting legs may be sometimes,” laughed Will.

And he did, with Bluff standing alongside; for once the official photographer demanded a pose, he was bound to get it, or throw up his job, for such was the law of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club.

Then they retraced their steps to the camp, Frank more than usually thoughtful, for anything in the shape of a mystery always set him to puzzling, and he more than once wondered whether they would ever learn just why those Crees stole the elk Bluff had downed after so much trouble.

“How many did there seem to be?” he asked Reddy, a little later.

“You mean of the thieving reds?  I counted nine in all, four bucks, two squaws and three pappooses,” replied the other.

“But if I understand rightly, these Indians never take their families when they go on the war-path.  Is that so, Reddy?” Frank asked quickly.

“Say, get that notion out of your head right away.  They ain’t no Crees lookin’ for trouble these days.  My idea is just this:  This is a family travelin’ acrost country, for some reason or other.  P’raps they got kicked out of their pesky old village.  I’ve knowed such things to happen.  Then they run short of meat, and didn’t have guns or powder.  Under such conditions any redman would steal.”

“Well, who could blame them, with women and children to feed?  I guess you hit the nail on the head that time, Reddy.  Glad to think that way, too.  We can spare the elk, and it will spur Bluff on to other hunting deeds.  He’s had a taste now, and the fever will work on him.”

Meanwhile, Jerry had started his fishing below the cataract.  There were places just at the end of the foam-splashed outlet of the big pool where they had seen noble trout jumping, and it was here he dropped his flies.

After trying them a short time, and ascertaining that the trout paid little attention to the feathery lure, practical Jerry actually descended to the plebian angleworm, though he blushed when Frank came over to watch him.