"It may have been done by accident; but, if so, it's curious the beast
should have been hit close to a place where it would have killed him,"
he remarked.

"What's your private opinion?" George asked.

The constable smiled.

"As we haven't gone very far yet, I'll reserve it." He took up the
bullet. "Winchester or Marlin; usual caliber; nothing to be made of
that. Now let's go and take a look at the place where the shot was
fired."

They traced back the path of the wounded beast from the spot where
Grierson had found it, by the red splashes that here and there stained
the short grass of the unfenced prairie. At last they stopped where
the ground was broken by a few low sandy ridges sprinkled with small
birches and poplars, and Flett pointed to the mark of hoofs in a strip
of almost bare, light soil.

"This is where he was hit," he said. "You can see how he started off,
going as hard as he could. Next, we've got to find the spot the man
fired from."

It proved difficult. The dry grass revealed nothing, and they vainly
searched several of the neighboring hillocks, where it grew less
thickly. Scorching sunshine beat down on them and a strong breeze blew
the sand about. At length Flett pointed to a few half-obliterated
footprints on the bare summit of a small rise.