back. No one would throw away such choice venison as that was." Ralph heaved a sigh. "I wish I was a man,—I'd go after that redskin in short order, and make him either give up the game or bring him down with my gun."
"If you shot him you'd bring on a regular war, more than likely. But if you wish, we can follow this track for a stretch, and look for father at the same time."
Ralph was more than willing to do this—anything to learn what had really become of his game, and so they continued up the river bank for the best part of half a mile. Here they came to a creek, leading directly west, and saw that the foot-prints followed this new water-course. Along the creek the way was rocky and uneven, and it was plain to see where the deer had been dragged along.
Ralph was going on, with his eyes bent to the trail, when suddenly his brother caught him by the arm, bringing him to a halt. In silence Dan pointed to the opposite side of the creek, at a distance a hundred feet farther up the water-course.
"It's Hank Stiger, the half-breed!" burst in a low tone from Ralph's lips. "And see, he is tying my deer fast to his pony."
"You are right, Ralph."
"I'm not going to let him get away in this fashion!" went on the younger lad, excitedly.
