That dirty redskin caught me a clump on the

  "We saw marks. It was the place."   The frown on their leader's forehead deepened, and for a long time he was wrapped in thought. "Yours, too, Werner!" he muttered, shaking his head.   Werner read censure into the three words. "That dirty redskin caught me a clump on the coco from behind, and then a whole lot of Indians jumped on me. See, there's the lump." He felt tenderly of the crown of his head, but made no advance to enable his friends to verify his claim; it was too sore for that. "I just dropped. When I came round, the rifles were gone."   "You saw the Indian?"   "Sure I saw him." In time he recalled the darkness and added hastily, "with my nose. You can't fool this guy when an Indian's within a mile. I know when they're inside the township. I guess I ought to: I used to steal with 'em, out further west, trapping we was--or stealing from the other fellow's traps. Smell 'em? Well, I guess."   "Do you smell one now?" asked Koppy suddenly.   Twenty-one pair of eyes went swiftly to the window. Blue Pete, at his chink behind the shack, held his ground, but his muscles were tense.   Werner grinned at the little joke.   "There ain't much chance to smell anything else with this bunk of yours under my nose. When they burn this shack down--and they got to if they're going to live in the country--somebody's going to be asphyxiated. I hope I'm five hundred miles away about then."   Koppy, struggling with anger and scorn, frowned on the would-be humourist, who hastily grinned.