Matthews looked but apparently did not see.
"Don't you see? It's the place where the snow slide slumped down!"
"But where in the name o' conscience is all yon snow; and where's th' bodies, Wayland?"
"Washed down to the bottom of the Lake Behind the Peak by this time; or you may find a great rock pile at the foot of the slope."
"A'm thinkin' they'll lie quiet till the crack o' doom, Wayland; but, but do y' no' see a tent back in yon larches across th' slide, man, where the thing knocked us both sprawlin'?"
"By George, yes, I do! Wonder if they're homesteading this next? It's off the N. F."
They put their ponies to an easy lope across the slope and came on a tepee tent with the flap laced tight and no sign of life, but a horse lazily floundering up beside a large fallen log, an empty whiskey bottle on the log, and a man's boot leg protruding from beneath the tent skirt.
"A'm wonderin' if there's a leg in that boot, Wayland."
"It's the sheriff's horse," said Wayland.
"It is, is it? And this is off y'r Forest Range; an' y'r not responsible for what A may be tempted to do?"