"Dios!" said Valencia, in a whisper.
They were three white-faced young men who stood there, abashed before
the tragedy they had uncovered. After a little, they filled the grave
again and stood back, trying to think the thing out and to think it out
calmly. They drew away from the spot, Dade leading.
"We don't need to open the other one," he said. "That holds Tige, of
course. I wonder--"
"Let's look around out there in the bushes," Jack suggested. "I can see
how the thing must have happened; somebody came and started
shooting--and that rifle he called Jemina, and the two pistols--don't
you reckon they did some good for themselves?"
"Probably--if Jerry was here."
"Man, he must have been here! Who else--" he tilted his head towards the
graves. Surely, no one but Jerry would have buried them so, with Tige
lying at the feet of his mistress. And, as Jack presently pointed out,
if the shooting had taken place in Jerry's absence, he would certainly
have notified them at the ranch. And Jack had a swift mental picture of
Jerry galloping furiously up to the patio on one of his mules,
brandishing his rifle, while he shouted to all around him the news of
this terrible, unbelievable thing that had befallen him.
They did not search long before they found plenty of evidence that Jerry
had been there at the time of the trouble. They found Manuel lying on
his back, with his beard clotted and stained red, and his black eyes
staring dully at the sky.
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