They searched the bushes and the long grass, but there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary. Closely they examined the ground; but not a trace of blood was to be seen, nor any evidence of conflict. Saunders was stupefied, and Mark showed signs of growing wonder.
"It isn't here," half whispered Saunders. "And it isn't in the bushes. What do you make of it, Griffin?"
Mark answered hesitatingly and half-nervously.
"I can't make anything out of it, unless they have decided to hush the whole thing up, figuring that the men who interfered will never tell. They disposed of the body overnight and covered all their traces. Unless I am mistaken, no one will ever find it or know that the murder took place at all."
"Then," said Saunders emphatically, "they certainly had one of the big fellows here to see that it was properly done."
"It looks probable," replied Mark; "for a common murderer would not have planned so well. An expert was on this crime. The body is disposed of finally."
Saunders looked around nervously.
"We had better go back, Griffin. There's nothing left for us to do, and they may be watching."
Both men left the spot and returned to town; but they were no longer silent. Mark was decidedly anxious, and Saunders voiced his worry in tones that shook.
"I have more fear than ever for your sake, Griffin, and I'm beginning to have some for my own. Those fellows know how to act quickly and surely. Their principal is in Washington. He has had word already by cipher as to what has happened. He won't rest until he finds the witness, and then—"