They followed her to the mound, and after an inspection of it, Flett
nodded.

"You'd make a mighty smart tracker, Miss Grant. I was against this
mound being the firing place, because, to get to it, the fellow would
have to come out into the open."

"Would that count? It was a bull he was after."

"It was," Flett agreed. "This fixes the thing."

George looked at him meaningly.

"Have you made up your mind about anything else?"

"Oh, yes," said Flett. "It was done with malicious mischief. If a
poor white or an Indian meant to kill a beast for meat, he wouldn't
pick a bull worth a pile of money, at least while there was common beef
stock about."

"Then what do you mean to do?"

Flett smiled.

"Sooner or later, I'm going to put handcuffs on the man who did this
thing. If you'll give me the sketch, Miss Grant, I'll take it along."

Flora handed it to him, and he and Edgar went away shortly afterward,
leaving George with the girl. She sat still, looking down at him when