There was no reason why Jack should not be tinkering in the blacksmith shop early of a morning.

But Wade followed an uncanny guidance.

Like his hound Fox, he never split on trails.

When opportunity afforded he went into the shop and looked it over with eyes as keen as the nose of his dog.

And in the dust of the floor he had discovered little circles with dots in the middle, all uniform in size.
Sight of them did not shock him until they recalled vividly the little circles with dots in the earthen floor of Wilson Moore's cabin.