s searching the long grass in every direction. He
looked for remnants of clothing; for anything to give him a sign. In his
search he was joined by the scout who had returned from the water, where
he had discovered further traces of an encampment.

At last the examination was completed. There was nothing left to indicate
the identity of the bones.

The two men now stood by the bones of the unfortunate man and woman. Seth
was staring out at the surrounding brush.

"I guess the Injuns cleaned things up pretty well," he said, while his
eyes settled on one little bush apart from the rest.

The scout shook his head.

"That's not Injuns' work," he said.

"No?" Seth queried casually.

"No. Everything gone. So. That not like Injun."

Seth made no response, but walked over to the bush he had been looking at.
The scout saw him thrust a hand in amongst the branches and withdraw it
holding something.

"What you find?" he asked, when Seth came back.

"Only a rag."

Then, a moment later, Seth asked suddenly: "How far from here to--Jason's
old place?"

"Six--eight--nine hour," Jim Crow said, with his broad smile that meant
nothing.

Seth looked long and thoughtfully at the split skull on the ground. Then
his eyes sought the bullet hole in the woman's skull. But he said
nothing.

A little later the two men went back to the horses and mounted.

"Guess I'll git on to see the Agent," Seth observed, while the horses
moved away from the bluff.

"You go by Reservation?"

"Yes."

Jim Crow surveyed the prospect in silence. They reached the trail, and
their horses stood preparatory to parting company.

"S'long," said Seth.

The Indian turned and looked away to the north. It was the direction in
which lay the great Reservations. Then he turned back, and his black,
slit-like eyes shot a sidelong glance at his companion.

"You go--alone?" he asked.

The other nodded indifferently.

"Then I say sleep little and watch much--I, Jim Crow."

The two men parted. The scout moved off and his hand went to the pocket of
his trousers where his fingers crumpled the crisp five-dollar bill he had
received for his services. Nothing else really mattered to him. Seth rode
away humming a tune without melody.

All the way to the Agent's house he carried out the scout's advice of
watchfulness; but for a different reason. Seth had no personal fear of
these stormy Indians. His watchfulness was the observation of a man who
learns from a