man, she ain't de man w'at liv' here!" he exclaimed suddenly. "She de man w'at got cross de divide wid de kultus gol'."
"What!" cried Connie, stooping to examine the marks. "How do you know?"
For answer Ick Far shrugged and pointed a lean finger at the almost invisible marks, which for all Connie could tell might have been made by a rolling stone or a hurrying wolf. "Me, I'm fol' dem track from Dawson to de divide, an' she got los' een de rocks. I know dem track. W'at I'm tell you we fin' dat kultus gol' mak' de trouble on Red Tail Lak'? De tamahnawus she mad 'cause men fin' dat gol'. She wan' dat back, an' mebbe-so dey bury you an' me, too."
"Not yet they won't!" grinned Connie. "We're a long ways from dead ones yet. If the fellow that's got the nugget is on Red Tail Lake we'll just stick around and get him after we clean up the job we're detailed on. I sure would like to take that hombre back to Dawson!"
Finding nothing further of importance, they returned to the ridge and took up the trail of the woman. After detouring the bay this trail led to the western shore of the lake where the country
