Austin Ambrose, uninvited by them, joined the group and ran with them.
They stopped a moment where the two roads joined, the one Blair had taken in the morning, the other he was returning by in the evening.
"Let's divide," said a man; but the farmer stooped down and examined the road.
"No occasion," he said; "here's the colt's hoof-marks. This is the road she come!"
Hurrying along, they climbed the narrow lane, and the foremost, a young lad carrying the lantern, stopped with a cry at the motionless form lying in the road.
There was a hush as the men crowded round. The farmer knelt down and examined it for a moment, then he looked up.
"I'm afeared he's dead," he said gravely.
"Is—is it foul play, do 'ee think, Farmer James?" inquired one of the men.
"Foul play!" the words ran round. "Why do 'ee say that?"
The man, a small, sharp-eyed old fellow, pointed to the road.