He stole his father's stock an' drove it up over the grassy benches where even you or I couldn't track him next day.

But up on top, when it suited him, he left some horse tracks, an' in the mud near a spring-hole he gets off his horse, steppin' with one foot--an' makin' little circles with dots like those made by the end of your crutch.

Then 'way over in the woods there's a cabin where he meets his accomplices.

Here he leaves the same horse tracks an' crutch tracks....

Simple as a b c, Wils, when you see how he did it.