"Why?" demanded Morton. "We might as well get along while it's cool. There's the remains of a moon just rising."
"Why? Because you think with me that it was a funeral party. Now, I should like to know what they did with the body; they never carried it away with them at that pace."
"Never thought of that," returned Morton. "Yes, we might pick up some information by waiting until daylight and seeing what they threw away. Make a fire, and we'll have breakfast."
The time soon passed in discussing the strange scene just witnessed and the probable result of their trip. Morton reminded Brown of the freemasons M'Dowall Stuart asserted he met with amongst the aborigines in the interior, and Charlie, who had not heard the former conversation, was enlightened as to the probable meaning of what had just passed.
As soon as daylight was strong enough the investigation commenced. Right on the track where it had been hastily dropped lay the dead body of a man. A tall old man, fastened on to a rude litter of saplings. The forehead was smeared with red pigment, and on the dusky breast was a triangle inscribed in white.
Brown gave a low whistle.
"That's a thing I never saw blacks draw before," he said to Morton.
"Nor I. He's a fine-looking old boy. What a long white beard he has got for a nigger!"
The corpse was fastened to the litter with strips of curragong bark; and they were turning away after noticing these details, when Brown suggested that they had better move it off the track.
"You know," he explained, "we might come bustling back here in a bigger hurry than those fellows were, and tumble over the old gentleman in the dark."