"Thravellin' towards us," he muttered--"th' back av th' head!"

Hands clasped behind bent back, and with head thrust loweringly forward
from between his huge shoulders he paced slowly down the trail for some
hundred yards. That grim, intent face and the swaying gait reminded
Redmond of some huge bloodhound casting about for a scent.

Halting irresolutely a moment, Slavin presently faced about and returned.
"Wan harse on'y!" he vouchsafed to their silent looks of enquiry. "He
had not company. Must have been shot from lift or right av th' thrail."
He stared around him at the bare sweep of ground. "Now fwhere cud any
livin' man find cover here in th' full av th' moon, tu get th' range wid
a small arm? He wud show up agin' th' snow like th' ace av shpades an'
he thried."

Suddenly his jaw dropped and he stiffened. "Ah-hh!" His eyes rivetted
themselves on some object and his huge arm shot out. "Fwhat's yon?"

They all stared in the direction he indicated. Plastered with frosted
snow, until it was all but undiscernible against its white background,
lay an enormous boulder--a relic, perchance, of some vast pre-historic
upheaval. It was situated at an oblique angle to the trail, about a
hundred yards distant.

With stealthy, quickened steps Slavin made his way towards it. Tensely
they watched him. In each man's mind now was a vague feeling of
certainty of something, they knew not what. They saw him reach the
boulder, walk round it and stoop, peering at its base for a few moments.
Then suddenly he straightened up and beckoned to them.