The scout soon reached the bottom of the cavity, which was bush-grown along its sides. He called up his discovery. “Your guess was right,” he said. “Here is the body.” It had been pitched far enough out, so that in its fall it did not break bushes; and it lay in a crumpled heap. The scout only tarried long enough to be sure that it was the body of the man known to him as Jackson Dane; then he came climbing up out of the black depths. “Yes,” he added, “whoever had the body threw it over here, to get rid of it; and took it from that other place so that it might not be found by the searchers.” “Why sh’d he wanted ter do thet?” Nomad queried. “I can only guess, of course; though he ought to have known that it had already been seen. In law, you know, the body must be produced, or identified, in order to convict any one of murder; otherwise, there could be no showing absolutely that the man supposed to be murdered was dead. He might be living, somewhere in secret. But it was a foolish move, in this case, to try to hide it here, it seems to me; as the body had already been seen.” “Aber the man vot dook it mighdtn’t haf knowed dot,” suggested the German. “Very true.” “But about thet woman and Juniper Joe cuttin’ out?” said Nomad. “You air shore of thet?” “I went with the officer to the Casino, to arrest the woman, but she had left by the morning stage for Calumet Springs. I sent a telegram to the marshal there; and if he does his duty, it will stop her at that point. When we went to Juniper’s cabin, we found it empty and dark. On forcing the door, we found no one, even though we searched the cabin and the mine. Of course, if you have been following their trail, it shows plainly enough where they are now.” “What’s yer idee?” the trapper questioned. “Simply that they came out and killed Dane. Perhaps they started back to the town; then saw us, and that changed their plans. Some one shot at me, you know; and probably that was Juniper Joe.” “Then you’ve reached ther conclusion thet he is plum crooked?” “I have.” “And his wife, too?” “Doesn’t it look it?” “Waugh! Et does.” “We’ll pick up their trail over there, and see if we can’t crowd ’em. Did it seem fresh?” “Not so very old, anyway,” Nomad told him. “You didn’t see any indication that buckskin bags had been cached, or pitched into some hole?” “No; but they could er been pitched inter some hole easy ’nuff, without our knowin’ it. Thar’s a lot o’ crevices along the trail; an’ without leavin’ his tracks a feller could easy ernough heave buckskin bags inter any of ’em.” “We haven’t time to look that up, now. Show me the trail, and we’ll see what we can do.” When the trail was regained, the scout took the lead, and pushed the work hard.