"Me not know—mebbe-so, Coal Creek—Buxton—Forty-mile—mebbe-so Jap Kinkade."
"What's the use of lyin'? Get up! I'm goin' to search every tepee in the village. The young men bought fire-water with it—an' you did, too! An' you bought it of Cosgrieve!"
The Indian smiled and shrugged, and followed behind while McKeever and Connie searched the lodges and found nothing.
"Wish I could talk to them squaws," mused McKeever, "but they can't understand no English—let alone talk it. I guess it's goin' to be the same old story. It's the moccasin telegraph does it—everyone on Cameron knows we're comin' soon as we hit the mouth, an' time we get to Two Prong, the whole creek's good as a Sunday-school before Christmas."
In silence, the two made their way out of the encampment and down the creek. At the end of an hour, Connie spoke:
"Dan, you've always used this trail, haven't you—and the rest of the boys, too—when they've visited Cameron Creek?"
"Sure, it's the only trail they is."
"Well, maybe," assented Connie, "but suppose
