Hashknife’s eyes narrowed slightly.
‘I see,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘That’s how I missed yore trail down there. But I found a way through.’
‘The hell yuh did!’ exploded Spike. ‘What’d yuh find?’
Hashknife’s eyes traveled slowly over the crowd.
‘I found a blue-roan 6X6 horse, with a saddle on it. The buzzards found it first, but there was enough left.’
‘Blue-roan?’ queried Bert Roddy. ‘Was it Napoleon Bonaparte Briggs’s blue-roan?’
‘I think so, Bert.’
‘Where’s old Briggs?’ demanded Morgan. ‘I want to get my hands on that old thief. He opened that safe——’
‘Briggs is dead,’ interrupted Hashknife. ‘He had been all battered up, and I think a bullet had scored his head. I found him down there in a cave, with a tight rope around his neck—jist buzzard bait.’
For several moments there was silence, broken by Spike’s ‘My God!’