"Is he dead, do you think?" I asked.
"Quite," said Spicer. "Look at this mark under his chin. Galloping through the scrub in the dark the other night to get away from us, he must have been caught by that bough up there and have been dashed from his saddle. Death must have been almost instantaneous."
Round his waist was a long thin cord which ran away some twenty yards or so into the bush. We followed it up and discovered a large piece of raw hide tied to the end of it.
Spicer examined the latter carefully.
"The beast that owned this skin was only killed two days ago," he said. "Now I know why our cattle were so restless. They smelt the blood, and, as you are aware, that invariably terrifies them. Cunning beggar! he pretended to know nothing, and yet he knew enough for this."
"Yes," I said; "but what about the other night when the phantom appeared at the garden fence, and this man was sitting in the verandah with us?"
"Why, he probably wanted to disarm suspicion, and so sent his overseer, who must be in the secret, to play the part."
"But what was his object in frightening you?"
"Can't you guess? Well, just let me find out where our friend's stockyard is situated in the Ranges up yonder, and I think I'll be able to tell you. I remember now that when I came here his cattle were all over Warradoona, and that he used the place just as if it were his own, to say nothing of having his choice of all the unbranded and other cattle that former tenants had left upon it."
Leaving the body where we had found it, to be picked up on our homeward journey, we crossed the river and plunged into the scrub beyond.