“Now, George,” he said, “you and I are going to do a little scouting.  You know I’m descended from the greatest natural scout and trailer ever known in the West, one whose senses were preternaturally acute, one who could almost track a bird in the air by its flight.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of the renowned Henry Ware, and I know that you’ve inherited a lot of his skill and intuition.  Go ahead.  I promised that I would help you and ask no questions.  I keep my word.”

Harry climbed silently over the low fence, and Dalton followed in the same manner.  The light from the street and house did not penetrate the pines and rosebushes, where Harry quickly found a refuge, Dalton as usual following him.

“What next?” whispered Dalton.

“Now, I do my trailing and scouting, and you help me all you can, George, but be sure you don’t make any noise.  There’s enough moonlight filtering through the pines to show the ground to me, but not enough to disclose us to anybody twenty feet away.”

He dropped to his hands and knees, and, crawling back and forth, began to examine every inch of ground with minute care, while Dalton stared at him in amazement.

“I’d help,” whispered Dalton, “if I only knew what you were doing.”

“Suppose, George, that somebody wanted to see the Curtis house, and yet not be seen, wanted to observe as well as he could, without detection, what was going on there.  He’d watch his chance, jump over the fence as we have done and enter this group of pines.  He could ask no finer point of observation.  We are perfectly hidden and yet we can see the whole rear of the house and one side of it.”

“So we can.  I infer that you are looking for some one who you think has been acting as a spy.”

“Ah! here we are.  The earth is a bit soft by this pine, and I see the trace of a footstep!  And here is another trace, close by it, undoubtedly the imprint of the other foot.  It’s as plain as day.”

Dalton knelt, looked at the traces, and shook his head.  “I can’t make out any of them,” he said.  “I see nothing but a slight displacement of the grass caused by the wind.”

“That’s because you haven’t my keen eye, an inherited and natural ability as a trailer, although you may beat me out of sight in other things.  The shape of these traces indicates that they were made by human feet, and their closeness together shows that the man stood looking at the house.  If he had been walking along they would be much wider apart.”

He examined the traces again with long and minute care.

“The toes point toward the house, consequently he was looking at it,” he said.  “He was a heavy man, and he stood here a long time, not moving from his tracks.  That’s why he left these traces, which are so clear and evident to me, George, although they’re hidden from a blind man like you.”

“Well, what of it?”

“Nothing much to you, but a lot to me.”