“Who is going down to bring him up?” asked McConnachie.
“I’ll go,” put in Howden.
“No!––better let Phil go! He is not quite so heavy as you are, Howden, and he has more spring to him.”
Ropes were taken from the saddles and joined together. 379 Phil was lowered slowly over the side and down. He reached the bottom in safety, but was unable to do anything single-handed, for the great dead horse was lying completely on top of the dead rider.
“Better come down, Jim,” he shouted up. “It is more than a one man job.”
He sent up his rope, and soon Jim was down beside him. Together they partly dragged and partly rolled the horse from off the dead man. Its neck had apparently been broken in the fall.
Every bone in the body of the bank robber was crushed and broken with the weight of the horse falling on top. But his masked and bearded face appeared to be unmarred. Life was completely gone.
Phil stooped down and removed the mask. As he did so, his face turned ashy pale and his breath began to come in gulps. Quickly and nervously he put his fingers through the man’s black beard and tugged. The hair came away in his hands, and he gazed in horror at a face he was well familiar with.
He rose from his knee, passed his hand over his eyes and his brow, then staggered against the damp bank.
“Great God, Jim! It’s––it’s Brenchfield!” he gasped.