Hashknife worked down to the water edge and went slowly along about fifty feet. Then he stopped and sat back against the bank. For several moments he studied the tangle of brush and green water. Then he turned his head and looked up at the two men above him.
“I’ve found him,” he said.
“You’ve found him?” gasped Honey.
“Uh-huh. One foot still on dry land. I thought it was just an old shoe. He must ’a’ went in head first. There’s his lantern in the muck—just the bottom of it stickin’ out.”
Hashknife turned around and climbed up the bank. From the track level he could not see the shoe nor the lantern. He heaped up a pile of stones beside the track to mark the spot.
“Ain’t we goin’ to take him out?” asked Sleepy.
“Not me,” replied Hashknife. “That’s the sheriff’s job.”
They rode back to the ranch and were just debating what to do, when Ben Collins came along on his way to town from the Circle M. Honey called to him and he stopped at the HJ gate.
“You’ll probably see Kelsey in town,” said Honey. “Tell him we found the brakeman of that cattle-train. He’s in the ditch on the west side of the railroad track, about three hundred yards south of the bridge. We heaped up a pile of rocks along the track, and the body is straight down from that. Tell Kelsey he’ll need help to get the body.”
Collins stared at Honey, his mouth agape. It was all Greek to him, it seemed.