He picked it up hastily and put it in his pocket.

On a white stone just by it there were some red-brown spots.

He pushed it with his foot to the side of the road and was down into the cutting before the heavy-footed neighbours came up.
Julie was ranging up and down the narrow pathway, searching the depths with a face like a hawk, hanging on to the rough sides of the pinnacles, and bending over in a way that elicited warning cries from the others as they came streaming down.
But keenest search of the western slope revealed nothing amid its tangle of gorse and blackberry bushes, and the eastern cliff fell so sheer, and had so many projecting lumps and underfalls, that it was impossible to see close in to the foot.
And then one, nimbler witted than the rest, climbed out along the common above the northern cliff, whereby, when he had come to the great slope, he took the Coupee cliff in flank, and could spy along its base.
And suddenly he stopped, and stiffened like a pointer sighting his bird, peered intently for a moment, and gave tongue.
The chase was ended.

That they had sought, and feared to find, was found.
They came hurrying up, and clustered like cormorants on the slope, Julie among them, her face grim and livid in its black setting, her eyes blazing fiercely.
The finder pointed it out.

They all saw it--a huddled black heap close in under the cliff.
Elevated by his discovery, the finder maintained his reputation by doing the only thing that could be done.