Our way led up past the Patriarch, and, as we approached it, we saw innumerable birds of prey, and carrion crows circling round it, croaking and screaming. I turned my eyes in another direction; but, nevertheless, I felt a strange sort of longing to revisit the tree. Anthony had ridden on, and was already hidden from view behind its branches. Presently I heard him give a loud shout of exultation. I jumped off my horse, and led it through a small opening in the leafage.
Some forty paces from me the body of a man was hanging by a lasso from the very same branch on which Bob had been hung. It was not Bob, however, for the corpse was much too short and small for him.
I drew nearer. "Johnny!" I exclaimed "That's Johnny!"
"It was," answered Anthony. "Thank Heaven, there's an end of him!"
I shuddered. "But where is Bob?"
"Bob?" cried Anthony. "Bob!"
He glanced towards the grave. The mound of earth seemed to me larger and higher than when I had last seen it. Doubtless the murderer lay beside his victim.
"Shall we not render the last service to this wretch, Anthony?" asked I.
"The scoundrel!" answered the huntsman. "I won't dirty my hands with him. Let him poison the kites and the crows!"
We rode on.