boats in which they fled, carrying off your elk. By this time they've
shot the rapids, and must be miles below. Possibly we may run across the
rascals later, when we also go down the river," replied Mr. Mabie.

Reddy had gone off, his head bent low, and they understood that he was
following the trail, much as a hound would have done, with this one
difference, that whereas a dog pursues by scent alone, the cowboy had to
depend on his eyes.

"But if game is so plentiful, why should these Crees want to steal my
elk?" pursued Bluff, who could not be easily satisfied.

"That bothers me to answer. Perhaps they happened to be out of
ammunition. There are several other explanations, but in my opinion the
most probable is the natural meanness of certain dusky bucks; just as
your able tramp refuses to do a lick of work, while he'll walk twenty
miles for nothing," smiled the other.

"There comes Reddy back. Perhaps he knows more about it now," said
Frank, who was decidedly interested in the enigma.

They waited until the cowboy joined the circle about the tree.

"Boats, Reddy?" asked Mr. Mabie.

"Three. Must have carried around the falls without our knowing it. Hung
about here, waiting to steal something from our camp. Had a snare set
for jack-rabbits. Saw some torn skins in the camp," was what the cowboy
replied, in his jerky way.