Hooker did not attempt an argument; he left the maneuver to be carried through by Sleuth, whom he continued to follow without proffering advice.
Crouching low when the road was reached, they darted across it, one after the other, circling until they could approach the stable of the Sages from the rear. To their surprise, they perceived that the small back door of the building also stood open. Their nerves taut and tingling, they presently found themselves beside that door, where, with one hand on his pistol and the other upheld as a signal for caution, Piper listened intently.
“Can you hear anything?” whispered Roy.
“No,” admitted Sleuth, “nothing that seems significant to me. I’m going to look in. Keep still.”
Thrusting his head forward, he peered into the gloomy interior of the building. After a few glances, reaching backward without turning, he beckoned for the other lad to follow, and entered, walking on his toes.
They were in the very center of the stable floor when a sudden stamping and a snort caused them both to leap backward, Piper jerking up the hand in which his nickle-plated revolver quivered tremulously. After a moment he drew a breath of relief, turning a pallid face toward Roy as he explained in a whisper:
“Nothing but their cow in the tie-up yonder.”
“Thunder!” sighed Sleuth’s companion. “She gave me an awful start. Don’t look like we’ll find anything here, Pipe.”
“Wait. I have a theory into which I’ve been led by the sight of the open doors, but it’s best to proceed carefully and not overlook anything.”
Ten seconds later, not five feet from the slightly opened front doors, Piper discovered something that added in no small degree to his self-esteem. Upon the floor near a small grain box was a pool of blood, and beside that pool he perceived some shreds like ravellings from a torn cloth.