the lost coin on that memorable day. The first thing I looked for were
traces of a struggle, but if there had been any they were now completely
obliterated by hoof marks and footmarks made by Falkner and the Major
when they first made the discovery.

"The dog died before sundown," I said, after a momentary examination.

"How do you know that?" asked Falkner.

"Because the ground underneath him is perfectly dry. If he had been
killed or died later it wouldn't have been. It would have been damp
with dew. Look--Ah!"

The last exclamation was evoked by a curious circumstance as I moved the
body of the dead animal. A strange odour greeted my nostrils. It was
as the odour of death, and yet not altogether, and--it was the same that
poisoned the air on the occasion of my horse refusing to go forward on
that night at Kendrew's, and again here, almost on this very spot three
nights ago when we had come away from witnessing Ukozi's uncanny
performance at the pool. Some dark villainy underlay this, and that the
witch doctor was connected with it was borne in upon my mind without a
doubt.

I examined the dead dog long and carefully, but could read no clue as to
the manner of his death, unless he had been poisoned, but this I thought
unlikely. One thing was certain. Never in life would he have allowed
harm or violence to reach his mistress. Poor Arlo! At any other time I
should have been moved to genuine grief for his loss; now that loss was
not even felt.

Quickly, eagerly, I cast around for spoor, beyond the radius of the
disturbed part of the ground. All in vain. No trace. No trampled
grass or broken twig, or displaced leaf, absolutely nothing to afford a
clue. The thing was incomprehensible. It was as if she had been caught
up bodily into the air.

The ground here was a gentle declivity, moderately studded with bush.
It was not rocky nor rugged, and was entirely devoid of holes or caves
into which anyone might fall.

Suddenly every drop of blood within me was set tingling. I had found a
trace. Where the ground was stony, just above the path I discovered an
abrasion, as though a boot, with nail heads in the soles, had scraped
it.

It was very faint, but still--there was no mistaking it. It was a
genuine spoor. And it led on and on, utterly undiscernible to the Major
or Falkner, hardly visible to Kendrew at times, but plain enough to me.
And now hope beat high. We would find her. We had only to fol