They uncovered the dead animal and threw it into the swift, deep current of the Runaway.
They did not cease digging, however, until every square yard of the fallen soil and rubble from the top of the cliff had been combed over. They covered one section with the upturned windrow of another. Nothing which had fallen with that fatal landslide remained unseen. But what they had feared to find was not in evidence.
“Either Tolley’s guess was right, or Dick Beckworth never came down that wall with his horse,” Hurley said with finality.
Hunt nodded, finally leaning on his spade. “At least, we have satisfied our own minds,” he said. “That is something.”
“And mighty little. Dick isn’t here. I bet a thousand he didn’t go to Hoskins with Nell. He wouldn’t have walked in any case. Then, where the devil is he?”
“That is not the main question,” rejoined the parson thoughtfully. “The principal thing is to get at the truth about this accident. What happened up there at the top of the cliff? Did the man come down with the horse and these several tons of gravel and soil? And if he came down, what became of his body?”
“Great saltpeter!” Hurley brought out his uncouth ejaculation with a new emphasis. “Do you suppose Tolley, after all, knows more about that than Nell does?”
“What?” Then Hunt understood. “It might be,” he said slowly. “Evidently Tolley was not pleased by that gambler’s leaving him, any more than he was pleased by Miss Blossom’s leaving him. It might be——”
“It might be,” finished Hurley with vigor, “that Boss Tolley is dragging a skunk after him to fool the hounds.”
Hunt admitted the truth of this rather homely expression. “All the more reason why the girl must be questioned,” he said.