The watchman heaved a huge sigh of relief. If Blackstock exonerated him from the charge of negligence, other people would. And his heart had been very heavy at being so fatally fooled. "It's Harner's Bend all right, that's what it is!" he muttered. "Ef only we could prove it," said Blackstock, searching the damp ground about the edges of the pool, which was lighted now as by day. Presently he saw Jim sniffing excitedly at some tracks. He hurried over to examine them. Jim looked up at him and wagged his tail, as much as to say, "So you've found them, too! Interesting, ain't they!" "What d'ye make o' that?" demanded Blackstock of the watchman. "_Boy's_ tracks, sure," said the latter at once. The footprints were small and neat. They were of a double-soled larrigan, with a low heel of a single welt. "None of _our_ boys," said Blackstock, "wear a larrigan like that, especially this time o' year. One could run light in that larrigan, an' the sole's thick enough to save the foot. An' it's good for a canoe, too." He rubbed his chin, thinking hard. "Yesterday," said the watchman, "I mind seein' a young half-breed, he looked like a slip of a lad, very dark complected, crossin' the road half-a-mile up yonder. He was out o' sight in a second, like a shadder, but I mind noticin' he had on larrigans--an' a brown slouch hat down over his eyes, an' a dark red handkerchief roun' his neck. He was a stranger in these parts." "That would account for the voice, like a woman's," said Blackstock, following the tracks till they plunged through a tangle of tall bush. "An' here's the handkerchief," he added triumphantly, grabbing up a dark red thing that fluttered from a branch. "Harner's Bend knows somethin' about that boy, I'm thinkin'. Now, Bill, you go along back, an' don't say nothin' about this, _mind_! Me an' Jim, we'll look into it. Tell old Mrs. Amos and Woolly Billy not to fret. We'll be back soon." He slipped the leash into Jim's collar, gave him the red handkerchief to smell, and said, "Seek him, Jim." And Jim set off eagerly, tugging at the leash, because the trail was so fresh and plain to him, and he hated to be held back. The trail led around behind the village, and back to the river bank about a mile below. There it followed straight down the shore. It was evident to Blackstock that his quarry would have a canoe in hiding some distance further down. There was no time to be lost. It was now almost full daybreak, and he could follow the trail by himself. After all, it was only a boy he had to deal with. He could trust Jim to delay him, to hold him at bay. He loosed the leash, and Jim bounded forward at top speed. He himself followed at a leisurely loping stride.