"Couldn't you move the horse?"
"Nary a bit. His neck is broke, and he lays wedged so clust, right on top o' the poor cuss, 'twould take a yoke o' oxen to drag him out."
"Are you sure the man is dead?"
"Shore? I reckon! He had one arm loose. I jest lifted it, and it drapped jest like a club when I let go; then I see 'twas broke square off jest above the elbow, about where the backbone o' the hoss comes. Made me durned sick!"
"What have you got in your hand?"
"A boot—one o' his'n—thought I'd pull it off, his leg stuck up so kind o' handy; didn't know but some on ye might know the boot." And Dan held it up for Penn's inspection.
"What is this on it? Blood?"
"It ar so! Mebby it's the hoss's, and then agin mebby it's his'n; I hadn't noticed it afore."
"I'll go back with you, Daniel. Together perhaps we can move the horse."
"Ye're behind time for that! The fire's thar. I hadn't only jest time to git cl'ar on't myself. The poor cuss is a br'ilin'!"