robbers
had the best av intintions when they came to me," and she related
at length her experience with the two who broke in when her Cow was
reported sold. She laughed over their enjoyment of the Lung Balm, and
briefly told how the big man was sulky and the short, broad one was
funny. Their black beards, the "big wan" with his wounded head, his
left-handedness and his accidental exposure of the three fingers of
the right hand, all were fully talked over.

"When was it, Granny?"

"Och, shure an' it wuz about three years apast."

Then after having had his lungs treated, old Caleb left Granny and set
out to do some very hard thinking.

There had been robberies all around for the last four years; There was
no clue but this: They were all of the same character; nothing but
cash was taken, and the burglars seemed to have inside knowledge of
the neighbourhood, and timed all their visits to happen just after the
householder had come into possession of a roll of bills.

As soon as Caleb turned in at the de Neuville gate, Yan, acting on a
belated thought, said:

"Boys, you go on to camp; I'll be after you in five minutes." He wanted
to draw those tracks in the mud and try to trail that man, so went
back to the grave.

He studied the marks most carefully and by opening out the book he was
able to draw the boot tracks life-size, noting that each had three
rows of small hobnails on the heel, apparently put in at home because
so irregular, while the sole of the left was worn into a hole. Then he
studied the hand tracks, selected the clearest, and was drawing the
right hand when something odd caught his attention.

Yes! It appeared in all the impressions of that hand--the middle
finger was gone.

[Illustration: The three-fingered hand-print]

Yan followed the track on the road a little way, but at the corner it
turned southward and was lost in the grass.

As he was going back to camp he overtook Caleb also returning.

"Mr. Clark," he said. "I went back to sketch those tracks, and do you
know--that man had only three fingers on his right hand?"

"Consarn me!" said Caleb. "Are you sure?"

"Come and see for yourself."

Yes! It surely was true, and Caleb on the road back said, "Yan, don't
say a word of this to the others just now."

The old Trapper went to the Pogue house at once. He found the tracks
repeated in the dust near the door, but they certainly were not made
by Dick. On a line was a pair of muddy trousers