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