I went outside then and searched the ground all round the door carefully.
“Come back to the tent all of you,” I said. I led the way, scrutinising every inch of the ground and following a somewhat unaccountable trail I had discovered. It led direct to the tent.
“Let me see to your arm, Karasch,” I said first, intending to let them have some minutes to recover from the first effects of their stupefaction.
“No, Burgwan. You have cursed blood on you. You cannot touch me. I should die, too.”
“Very well, then, we’ll settle this thing first. You saddled Karasch’s horse last night, Gartski. Did you fasten the shed afterwards?”
“No; we never fasten it. Bars won’t keep out devils.”
“This is the work of no devil. Those horses have been killed by someone who plunged a knife into their hearts and then cut that ring on the haunch. I saw the wound myself on the beast I examined. They were all right when you left them?”
“Yes, quite right.”
“Did either of you go near the shed again until Karasch returned, or did you sleep?” I asked next, remembering the strange noise I had heard in the night.
“We had had a long day, and both slept soundly.”