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Page 33
He proceeded to sift some fine, crisp snow in one of the imprints, then,
producing an old letter from his pocket, he flattened out the
type-written sheets of foolscap therein. Placing the blank side of the
sheet face-downwards upon the imprint he pressed down smartly. The
result was a very fair impression of the footmark, which he immediately
outlined in pencil.
A strange ominous silence fell upon the group. Deep in wild, whirling
conjecture, each man gazed about him. The desolate, sinister aspect of
their surroundings struck them with a sudden chill. Yorke voiced the
general sentiment.
"My God!" he said in a low voice, "but it sure is dreary!"
With a final, self-satisfying survey at his "lay av things" Slavin
stepped well to the side of the incriminating foot-prints. "Come on!" he
said "get in file behint me! We will follow this up!"
Silently they obeyed and padded in his rear.
"D----d big feet, whoever owns 'em," remarked Redmond to Yorke.
Slavin heard him. "Ay!" he flung back grimly. "An' they will shtand on
th' dhrop yet--thim same feet!"
The tracks returning in the direction of the coulee presented a vast
contrast to the approaching imprints. Where the latter denoted an even,
steady stride, the former ran in queer, irregular fashion--sometimes
bunched together, and at others with wide spaces between.
"'On th' double!'" remarked Slavin observantly.
"Must have got scairt!"
"Ah!" murmured the coroner, reflectively, "though the Bible doesn't
expressly state so, I guess Cain, too, got on the 'double' as you call
it--after he killed Abel."
They finally reached the coulee where the tracks, debouching from the
steep edge, passed along its rim and presently descended the more shallow
end of the draw. Their leader eventually halted at the foot of a small
cotton-wood tree where the human foot-prints ended. There in the snow
they beheld a hoof-trampled space, which, together with broken twigs,
indicated a tethered horse.
This served for comment and speculation awhile.
The sergeant, producing a small tape measure dotted down careful
measurements of the over-shoed imprints and their length of stride, also
the size of the shod hoof-marks.
Redmond drew his attention to blood-stains in several of the latter.
"Shod with 'never-slip' calks, Sergeant!" he said. "Must have slipped
somewhere and 'calked' himself on the 'coronet,' I guess?"
"Eyah!" muttered Slavin approvingly, "Th' 'nigh-hind' 'tis, note,
bhoy! . . . 't'will serve good thrailin' that. Well, let's follow ut on!"
Wearily his companions plodded on in his wake. The tracks, after
following the draw for a short distance, suddenly wound up a steep,
narrow path on the left side of the coulee. Reaching the surface of the
level ground, they circled until they struck into the main trail east
again, about a mile below where the party had left their horses. Here,
merged amongst countless others on the well-travelled highway, they
became more difficult to trace, though occasionally the faint
blood-stains proclaimed their identity.
Slavin pulled up. "Luks as if he'd shtruck back tu Cow Run again," he
said with conviction. "Must have come from there, tu--thracks was goin'
and comin' an' ye noticed, fwhin we climbed out av th' coulee back there.
We must luk for a harse wid th' nigh-hind badly 'calked.' Yorkey! yu'
get back an' tell that Lanky Jones feller tu come on. Hitch yez own
harses behint our cutter an' take th' lines." He squinted at the sun and
pulled out his watch. "'Tis four o'clock, begob! Twill turn bitther
cowld whin th' sun goes down."
The coroner smiled knowingly. "Talking about 'calks'!" he remarked; and
diving into the deep recesses of his fur coat he produced a
comfortable-looking leather-encased flask. "A little 'calk' all round
won't hurt us after that tramp, Sergeant!" he observed kindly.
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