At the turn, he saw that a group of men had gathered about the lifeless figure of Bart. A freight wagon drawn by three yoke of oxen had been stopped near by and reins dropped on four or five saddle horses. But he looked in vain for his companion of chance. Ruth Duperow and her mount were gone.
CHAPTER XV
UNDER SUSPICION
None of the usual greetings of the Northern trail were offered Seymour as he rode up to the group. Instead, he found himself the target for a battery of frowning glances. The men presented a stolid front of frigid scrutiny. The probability flashed upon him that, as the first stranger to reach the scene, he was under suspicion in connection with the crime.
The sergeant stopped his horse and was about to dismount when there was a movement among the men. A short, stout man, from whose ample belt dangled a small cannon of a revolver, waddled forth to stand before him.
"What's happened?" asked Seymour quickly deciding to say nothing of his previous visit.
"That's what we're goin' to find out," said the fat man in that shrill small voice with which humans of undue girth often are afflicted. "Who're you?"
This question was as natural as Seymour's own, but the manner in which it was asked put him on edge. And since Bart had appropriated his name along with his uniform, he could not answer truthfully without laying himself open to a further explanation than he proposed to make at that moment.
"As for that, who're you?" he snapped back.
"I'm Deputy Coroner Samuel Hardley." The speech was pompous; so was his turning back of a coat lapel to exhibit a nickle-plated badge of office. "I'm also deputy sheriff and represent the law of British Columbia in Gold."