or?"

"The dog," returned Kiddie. "I want to see Sheila. Go an' fetch her,
Rube."

As Kiddie reached the cabin, he saw that the door was not locked. It
was an inch or two ajar. He pushed it open farther, and strode within.
He sniffed. There was a smell of tobacco smoke in the air. The
living-room was in confusion, the furniture out of place. He ran into
the farther room. Here the confusion was greater. A window-pane was
broken, and the window itself was open.

For the next few minutes he went about opening cupboards and drawers.
Then he heard footsteps on the veranda, and he went back to the front
door.

"Don't come in, Isa! Stay where you are, Rube," he cried. "I've been
robbed! Some one's broken in and gone off with all my jewellery, my
gold watch, my best revolvers, my cash-box with hundreds of pounds in
it. Where's the hound, Rube? Haven't you brought her? Didn't you
find her?"

"I--I found her, Kiddie," Rube stammered, "but I couldn't bring her.
She's dead! Shot dead."

CHAPTER XXI

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 ho