Part 12 (1/2)

With stealthy, quickened steps Slavin made his way towards it. Tensely they watched him. In each man's mind now was a vague feeling of certainty of something, they knew not what. They saw him reach the boulder, walk round it and stoop, peering at its base for a few moments.

Then suddenly he straightened up and beckoned to them.

”Thread in file,” he called out warningly. Yorke led, and, treading heedfully in each other's foot-marks, they reached the spot. Slavin silently pointed downwards. There, plainly discernible on the surface of the wind-packed, hard-crusted snow, were the corrugated imprints of overshoed feet--coming and going apparently in the direction of the previously mentioned coulee.

Redmond indicated two rounded impressions at the foot of the boulder, with two smaller ones behind. ”Must have hunched himself on his knees behind, eh?” he queried in a low voice.

Slavin nodded. The rays of the westering sun coming from back of a cloud glinted on something in the snow, a few feet away from the tracks. It caught Yorke's eyes and with an exclamation he picked it up.

”_--gold, raw gold, the spent sh.e.l.l rolled--_”

he quoted. ”Here you are, Burke!”

Slavin uttered a delighted oath as he examined the small, bottle-necked sh.e.l.l of the automatic variety. ”.38 Luger!” he said. ”A high-pressure 'gat' like that is oncommon hereabouts!” Pa.s.sing it on to the coroner he whistled softly. ”My G.o.d! Fwhativer sort av a gun-artist is ut that--even allowin' for th' moonlight--can pick a man off thru' th' head wid a revolver at this distance? . . . an' wan sh.e.l.l on'y? . . . 'Soapy Smith' himself cu'dn't have beat this!”

He proceeded to sift some fine, crisp snow in one of the imprints, then, producing an old letter from his pocket, he flattened out the type-written sheets of foolscap therein. Placing the blank side of the sheet face-downwards upon the imprint he pressed down smartly. The result was a very fair impression of the footmark, which he immediately outlined in pencil.

A strange ominous silence fell upon the group. Deep in wild, whirling conjecture, each man gazed about him. The desolate, sinister aspect of their surroundings struck them with a sudden chill. Yorke voiced the general sentiment.

”My G.o.d!” he said in a low voice, ”but it sure is dreary!”

With a final, self-satisfying survey at his ”lay av things” Slavin stepped well to the side of the incriminating foot-prints. ”Come on!” he said ”get in file behint me! We will follow this up!”

Silently they obeyed and padded in his rear.

”D----d big feet, whoever owns 'em,” remarked Redmond to Yorke.

Slavin heard him. ”Ay!” he flung back grimly. ”An' they will shtand on th' dhrop yet--thim same feet!”

The tracks returning in the direction of the coulee presented a vast contrast to the approaching imprints. Where the latter denoted an even, steady stride, the former ran in queer, irregular fas.h.i.+on--sometimes bunched together, and at others with wide s.p.a.ces between.

”'On th' double!'” remarked Slavin observantly.

”Must have got scairt!”

”Ah!” murmured the coroner, reflectively, ”though the Bible doesn't expressly state so, I guess Cain, too, got on the 'double' as you call it--after he killed Abel.”

They finally reached the coulee where the tracks, debouching from the steep edge, pa.s.sed along its rim and presently descended the more shallow end of the draw. Their leader eventually halted at the foot of a small cotton-wood tree where the human foot-prints ended. There in the snow they beheld a hoof-trampled s.p.a.ce, which, together with broken twigs, indicated a tethered horse.

This served for comment and speculation awhile.

The sergeant, producing a small tape measure dotted down careful measurements of the over-shoed imprints and their length of stride, also the size of the shod hoof-marks.

Redmond drew his attention to blood-stains in several of the latter.

”Shod with 'never-slip' calks, Sergeant!” he said. ”Must have slipped somewhere and 'calked' himself on the 'coronet,' I guess?”

”Eyah!” muttered Slavin approvingly, ”Th' 'nigh-hind' 'tis, note, bhoy! . . . 't'will serve good thrailin' that. Well, let's follow ut on!”

Wearily his companions plodded on in his wake. The tracks, after following the draw for a short distance, suddenly wound up a steep, narrow path on the left side of the coulee. Reaching the surface of the level ground, they circled until they struck into the main trail east again, about a mile below where the party had left their horses. Here, merged amongst countless others on the well-travelled highway, they became more difficult to trace, though occasionally the faint blood-stains proclaimed their ident.i.ty.

Slavin pulled up. ”Luks as if he'd shtruck back tu Cow Run again,” he said with conviction. ”Must have come from there, tu--thracks was goin'