hey were thick, back in the
burnt timber, and were just getting ripe.

After the big dinner and the washing of the dishes we lay around
resting. Jed Smith and I couldn't do much until our clothes were dry. We
stuffed our boots with some newspapers we had, to help them dry. (Note
19.) While we were resting, Fitzpatrick made our "Sh!" sign which said
"Watch out! Danger!" and with his hand by his side pointed across the
beaver pond.

We looked, with our eyes but not moving, so as not to attract attention.
Yes, a man had stepped out to the edge of the timber, at the upper end
of the pond and across, and was standing. Maybe he thought we didn't see
him, but we did. And he saw us, too; for after a moment he stepped back
again, and was gone. He had on a black slouch hat. He wasn't a large
man.

We pretended not to have noticed him, until we were certain that he
wasn't spying from some other point. Then General Ashley spoke, in a low
tone: "He acted suspicious. We ought to reconnoiter. Scouts Fitzpatrick
and Bridger will circle around the upper end of the pond, and Scout Kit
Carson and I will circle the lower. Scouts Corporal Henry and Jed Smith
will guard camp."

My boots were still wet, but I didn't mind. So we started off, in pairs,
which was the right way, Fitz and I for the upper end of the pond. I
carried a pole, as if we were going fishing, and we didn't hurry. We
sauntered through the brush, and where the creek was narrow we crossed
on some rocks, and followed the opposite shore down, a few yards back,
so as to cut the spy's tracks. I might not have found them, among the
spruce needles; but Fitzpatrick the Bad Hand did. He found a heel mark,
and by stooping down and looking along we could see a line where the
needles had been kicked up, to the shore. Marks show better, sometimes,
when you look this way, along the ground; but we could have followed,
anyhow, I think.

The footprints were plain in the soft sand; if he had stood back a
little further, and had been more careful where he stepped, we might not
have found the tracks so easily; but he had stepped on some soft sand
and mud. We knew that he was not a large man, because we had seen him;
and we didn't believe that he was a prospector or a miner, because his
soles were not hobbed--or a cow-puncher, because he had no high heels to
sink in; he may have been a rancher, out looking about.

"He must be left-handed," said Fitz.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because, see?"