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The Trail of the Golden Horn

cabin and strip off your pelts. But I’ve got other matters of more importance now. He then touched the nearest wolf with his foot. “You didn’t expect this, I reckon, when you made the attack last night. It was mighty lucky I happened to come along when I did. It’s a pity I wasn’t on hand when that two-legged devil was around. There may have been more than one, though, but that wouldn’t have made any difference. I guess I could have settled the whole bunch. I hope to goodness I’ll run across them before long.”

The dogs snarled as he approached the lean-to. But he drove them back, and gathered up the robe and blankets. He left them there and began to examine the environs of the camping-place, especially in the direction the half-breed girl had gone after the dry wood. The wolves had beaten down the snow so it was difficult for him to find any clue. Several times he encompassed the place, moving in a wider circle each time until he came to the edge of the untrampled snow. He had almost reached the trail when his attention was arrested by several dry sticks which had evidently been dropped in a hurry.

And right here he saw moccasined footprints, large and small. Close by, the snow was trampled down, as if a struggle had taken place. This spot he examined most carefully, hoping to obtain some clue to aid him in his search for the missing girl. He was about to abandon his search when his right foot upturned a piece of cloth which had been hidden by the snow. Eagerly he seized this and inspected it closely. It was merely a small fragment, and as near as he could make out it had belonged to the flap of a man’s cap for the protection of his ears. To Hugo it had a world of meaning. He pictured the half-breed girl struggling