"There's a condemned big one in my thumb." Seaforth stared at him with a vague suspicion that the hardships of the forced march they had made had left their mark upon his comrade, though he had never noticed any signs of mental weakness in the big axeman before.
"Aren't there plenty to be picked up in this country without looking for them ?" he said.
Okanagan glanced at him with a little twinkle which was not altogether mirthful in his eyes.

"Oh, yes.

More than I've any use for.

You were trying to figure on what I was after?
The thing's quite as easy as trailing a deer." "I was," said Seaforth dryly, and Okanagan approaching him dropped a big hand upon his shoulder.
"Come right along, and I'll show you," said he.
Seaforth followed him, until he stopped by the fir he had worked his alignment from, where he picked up a spent cartridge and pointed to a mark in the snow.
"Nothing particular about that, anyway, a forty-four Winchester," he said.

"The fellow had long boots on with one heel down, and he stood right here waiting for Harry.