well to the side and don't foul up the tracks. And don't get too far
away, either!"

He galloped off and soon disappeared over a distant rise. Left to
himself George mounted Fox and set to work to follow out the senior
constable's instructions.


"Well?" queried Yorke, swinging wearily out of his saddle an hour or so
later, "How'd you make out? Find the place where he flopped? Rum sort
of perch you've got there--you look like Patience on a monument!"

George, seated upon the rump of the dead horse, nodded and grunted
laconic response: "Sure. 'Bout two miles down the trail there. How'd
you get along, Yorkey? Did you raise Slavin and the coroner?"

"Got Slavin all hunkadory," said the senior constable briefly, "he should
be here soon, now. Dr. Cox'd just left for Wilson's, two miles this side
of Cow Run. They're on the 'phone, too; so I left word there for him to
come on here right away." He seated himself alongside the other.

Awhile they carried on a desultory, more or less speculative conversation
anent the fatality, until they grew morbidly weary of contemplating the
poor broken body. Yorke slid off the dead horse suddenly.

"Wish Slavin were here!" he said, "let's take a dekko from the top of the
rise, Reddy, see'f we can see him coming. I'm getting cold sitting here."

Redmond, nothing loath, complied. Mounting, they turned back to the
summit of the ridge. Reaching it, the jingle of bells smote their ears,