und 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.

"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 f