Death had undoubtedly been immediate.
Lite thought of these things while he stood there just inside the door.
Then he turned slowly and went outside, and stood hesitating upon the porch.

He did not quite know what he ought to do about it, and so he did not mean to be in too great a hurry to do anything; that was Lite's habit, and he had always found that it served him well.
If the rider had been fleeing from his crime, as was likely, Lite had no mind to raise at once the hue and cry.

An hour or two could make no difference to the dead man,--and you must remember that Lite had for six years called this place his home, and big Aleck Douglas his friend as well as the man who paid him wages for the work he did.

He was half tempted to ride away and say nothing for a while.

He could let it appear that he had not been at the house at all and so had not discovered the crime when he did.