Chapter 21

THE CLUE OF YELLOW WORSTED

"Sheila--shot dead!" cried Kiddie, staring blankly in front of him.

Rube Carter nodded his head gravely. He saw that Kiddie was deeply moved.

"Come an' have a look at her," he said. "I've not touched her. Say, it ain't any wonder she never answered your whistle last night. Must sure have happened 'fore we come ashore, else we should have heard the shot."

He led the way in among the trees beyond the outhouses. But before he had gone very far he came to an abrupt halt, and pointed.

"The far side of that clump of sage grass," he indicated. "I'm figurin' as the man that shot her stood about here. She was runnin' towards him. His bullet went in at her chest."

"Scout around an' see if you c'n find any footprints," said Kiddie, going forward to examine the dead hound.

Rube and Isa Blagg both searched, but there was no likelihood of their finding any bootmarks on the grass. Rube went back to the path leading up from the landing-place. There had been heavy rain on the previous afternoon, and the ground was still moist enough to show the faint impressions of his own and Kiddie's moccasins, and yet more distinctly the marks of Isa Blagg's heavy boots.

At sight of these he turned sharply round.

"Show me the soles of your boots, Sheriff," he asked; "both of 'em? Ah," he added, on seeing them, "you've got horseshoe heels an' toecaps, too; but only one row of hob-nails. I'm lookin' for the marks of boots with two rows, an' with a nail missin' from the inside row of the left boot. You'd best not walk about more'n you c'n help."

"Rube," said Kiddie, now coming up. "We landed from the canoe last evenin' at a quarter to seven. At what time would Abe Harum be down here?"

"'Bout four o'clock, I guess," Rube answered. "That's his usual time for lockin' up the stables an' givin' Sheila her feed. Abe told us he left the hound in her kennel. But, of course, she c'd get out if she wanted. She'd soon be out if she heard a stranger prowlin' around."

"As no doubt she did," agreed Kiddie.

"Heard him gettin' outer the canoe," Rube conjectured.

"You believe he came along in the canoe, then?" Kiddie interrogated.

"Well," returned Rube, "what about the tobacco pipe an' the footprint? You haven't spotted any more footprints like that one, have you, Kiddie?"

"Only one," Kiddie answered, "close beside the dog."

"H'm!" nodded Rube; "went up to her ter make sure she was dead, eh?"

"And, havin' got the watchdog outer his path," interposed the sheriff, "he went round t' th' side of your cabin, an' broke in by the winder."

"The easiest way," explained Kiddie; "you see the front door was locked, and I had the key. But it's sure he came out by the front door, leavin' it ajar."

"Seems t' have made a big scoop," said the sheriff. "Must have known where you kept all that money an' jewellery. What was it all worth, Kiddie?"

"I don't know yet," returned Kiddie. "I haven't had time to see just what he's taken an' what he has left. It's the dog that I'm troubled about most."

"Well, the first thing to do is ter get on the scoundrel's track," advised Isa Blagg. "An' he's liable to have left some traces round about that broken winder. Let's get there right now an' have a search."

Their nearest way to the cabin was past the front of the stables. Rube Carter limped forward in advance of his two companions, searching the ground as he went. Suddenly he came to a halt.

"Hallo!" he cried. "Come an' look here, Kiddie. What d'you make of this?"

He was staring down at the marks of a horse's shoes, mingled with the impressions of a man's hob-nailed boots.

"Looks like the tracks of your big horse Regent, don't it?" he questioned. "An' the bootmarks are the same's the one near the canoe."

Kiddie did not wait to make conjectures. He strode quickly towards the stables. Before he reached the building he saw that the stable door was open. He went within. His favourite English hunter, Regent, was not there. Its stall was empty.

"Stolen!" he exclaimed. "Rube--Isa, d'ye see? Regent's been stolen!"

"Then we'll sure catch him, whoever he is," said Rube. "He won't ride many miles without Regent bein' seen an' recognized by somebody that knows that hoss is yours."

"Any suspicion who it is?" asked the sheriff.

"What's your own idea, Isa?" Kiddie inquired.

"Well," returned Isa, "seems ter me thar was more'n one of 'em at this yer job. I'm tryin' t' identify th' owner of them boots. I've got a notion; but I ain't goin' ter jump at no rash conclusions this time. Come an' have a look at that broken winder."

Rube had gone back to the footprints, and was intently examining them when Kiddie went up to him.

"Well," queried Kiddie, always interested in Rube's investigations, whatever they happened to be.

"This is where he mounted," said Rube. "Here's where he stood when he was fastening the cinch of the saddle. Nick ain't such a clever criminal as I thought. I wonder at him leavin' his bootprints scattered about like this. Why didn't he mount from the grass?"

"He was certainly careless," agreed Kiddie. "Looks as if he'd been in a precious hurry to get away with the boodle. You're sure, I suppose, that it was Nick Undrell who wore boots like those that made these marks?"

"What makes me certain," said Rube, "is the missin' nail. I noticed it that day when we were bringin' along your outfit from Laramie. You've got to remember, too, that Nick's bin seen prowlin' around on your property here."

"Go ahead, then, Rube," urged Kiddie. "Follow up your clues, and don't waste time."

Kiddie himself did not appear to take much active interest in tracking the criminal. He knew that a large quantity of his most valuable possessions had been stolen, but he still considered the killing of his dog the most serious injury that had been done to him, and while Isa and Rube made their way towards the cabin, he again went back to where Sheila lay dead.

When he rejoined his two companions they were still searching for tracks outside the cabin.

"Thar wasn't more'n one of 'em at it," Rube told him. "If there'd bin a second, he'd sure have left some sort of clue; but we've found only the one set of bootprints."

"Have you looked near the window?" Kiddie asked.

"Not yet; I'm goin' there right now," replied Rube. "Keep Isa Blagg back, or he'll only get trampin' out the signs with them heavy boots of his. Just let me go alone--see?"

"Right," said Kiddie; "go ahead."

Rube found an empty packing-case against the boards under the window. He mounted on top of it, and examined the window sash and the broken pane of glass, by means of which the catch of the window had been opened. There were finger-marks on the glass, but these did not help him, since he did not yet know what kind of marks Nick Undrell's fingers might have left. What engaged his especial attention was one of the sharp points of splintered glass. He jumped down, and went back to where Kiddie and the sheriff waited.

"Either of you happen ter recollect what kind of a vest or shirt Nick Undrell wears?" he inquired. "Red, ain't it?"

Kiddie shook his head.

"Never saw Nick with red shirt-sleeves," he responded.

"Nor I," added the sheriff. "If you'd said yaller now----"

"Yes," resumed Kiddie; "yellow with black stripes, like a wasp, or an English football player."

"Come along o' me," said Rube.

And he led them both to the window, and pointed up at the broken glass.

"Yes," began Kiddie, "he broke that pane, shoved in his hand, and moved the hasp, then opened the lower sash, and went bodily in."

"All that's as plain as sunlight," said Rube. "But look at that sharp point of glass. Thar's a thread of wool caught on it--yellow wool."

"Ah!" exclaimed Isa Blagg. "Nick Undrell for a certainty!"

"That's how I figure it out," Rube agreed.

"Queer!" mused Kiddie, thrusting a finger and thumb into one of his smaller pockets. "I found a thread of the same yellow wool caught in one of poor Sheila's claws--the middle claw of the left fore foot."

"Dog got at him pretty close," conjectured Isa. "Guess Nick was right up agin her when he fired."

"The hair ain't singed any round about the bullet hole," added Rube.

"That's an important point," nodded Kiddie, turning and leading the way round to the front door of the cabin.

Rube Carter, following close behind him, sniffed, as Kiddie had done, on entering the living-room.

"Ugh," grunted Rube, "somebody bin havin' a smoke in here lately. Smells like a cigar, don't it, Kiddie? 'Tain't pipe tobacco smoke--eh?"

"No," said Kiddie, sniffing like a spaniel after partridge. "It's more like the aroma of one of my Egyptian cigarettes." He glanced up at a shelf. "They're gone, I see."

Rube also looked up at the shelf. He knew where Kiddie kept his stock of cigarettes. He knew also that besides the cigarettes there had been several parcels of pipe tobacco. He observed now that while the cigarettes had been taken, the tobacco remained on the shelf untouched. This fact puzzled him.

Kiddie had already gone into the farther room--his workroom--with Isa Blagg. Isa had taken out his pocket-book and pencil.

"If you'll sing out the things that are missin', Kiddie, I'll make a list of 'em," he said.

"But I can't tell you right off," objected Kiddie. "There's my gold watch and chain, worth fifty guineas, a gold cigarette-case studded with brilliants, five diamond rings, three diamond scarfpins, about five hundred pounds in English and American bank-notes--a whole heap of things are missin', but I'm not goin' ter worry about 'em now. The list can wait."

"But you want t' catch an' punish the thief, don't you?" urged Isa.

"I want to catch and punish the low-down skunk who murdered my deerhound," declared Kiddie, his eyes flashing in the vehemence of his anger.

"Kiddie," said Rube, now entering the room, "I'm some puzzled."

"What about, Rube?" asked Kiddie. "What's your problem?"

"It's this," answered Rube, scratching the back of his ear. "Allowin' that Nick Undrell entered by the broken winder an' carried off the valuables you've just bin figurin' up, why, when he went into th' other room, did he take the cigarettes an' leave the tobacco?"

"That's a very interestin' proposition which has already occurred to me," said Kiddie.

"You see," pursued Rube, "Nick ain't a cigarette smoker. He looks on a cigarette as a childish plaything. He smokes strong tobacco, the same as we found in his pipe. Then why did he take the cigarettes an' leave the tobacco?"

"Dunno," said Kiddie, "unless it was with the idea of leavin' a false clue--a blind. If he had taken the tobacco, I, who know his contempt for cigarettes, might the more readily have identified him."

"Thar's a lot in that notion," Rube acknowledged; "but it's just a bit too cute fer a man like Nick. The galoot that would scatter his footprints around an' leave his pipe in the canoe ain't clever enough ter lay a false trail. Seems to me it's more likely Nick didn't see the tobacco. He was hustlin' to get away with the loot."

"Everything else clear?" Kiddie asked.

"Yes," answered Rube. "I've got the whole thing straightened out."

"Good," nodded Kiddie; "then sit down an' give me your theory, from beginnin' to end."

Isa Blagg appeared to consider it preposterous to appeal for an explanation to a mere boy. Nevertheless, when Rube stated his case the sheriff was constrained to agree with it in every particular.