in his time. Very quickly Steinmetz came to his assistance, tenderly
lifting the dead man and laying him on his back.

"Ach!" he exclaimed; "we are unfortunate to meet a thing like this."

There was no need of Paul Alexis' medical skill to tell that this man
was dead; a child would have known it. Before searching the pockets
Steinmetz took out his own handkerchief and laid it over a face which
had become unrecognizable. The horse was standing over them. It bent its
head and sniffed wonderingly at that which had once been its master.
There was a singular, scared look in its eyes.

Steinmetz pushed aside the enquiring muzzle.

"If you could speak, my friend," he said, "we might want you. As it is,
you had better continue your meal."

Paul was unbuttoning the dead man's clothes. He inserted his hand within
the rough shirt.

"This man," he said, "was starving. He probably fainted from sheer
exhaustion and rolled out of the saddle. It is hunger that killed him."

"With his pocket full of money," added Steinmetz, withdrawing his hand
from the dead man's pocket and displaying a bundle of notes and some
silver.

There was nothing in any of the other pockets--no paper, no clue of any
sort to the man's identity.