It no longer does. By the time anyone thought to record what lay inside it, the site was already being destroyed, and the discovery came not from careful excavation but from the kind of accidental uncovering that archaeologists dread. What emerged was a cist, a small stone-lined grave box measuring less than a metre in length, sealed with a single capstone and aligned east to west in the southern half of the mound. Inside were the cremated remains of five individuals: three adult women, a newborn, and a child aged somewhere between six and eight years old. Alongside them was a single flint arrowhead.

The mound itself was circular, about twenty metres across, with a low outer berm, a shelf-like step around its base roughly three metres wide and rising to one and a half metres, which Liam Price noted in 1934 as possibly the remnant of an eroded surrounding bank. Stepped or bermed barrows of this kind are a recognised Bronze Age form, the berm sometimes interpreted as a structural feature, sometimes as the collapsed remains of an outer ring. The cremations and the associated arrowhead suggest a date somewhere in the Bronze Age, though the presence of five individuals in a single cist is itself unusual. Communal or successive burial within a single cist does occur, but the combination of adults and young children, including an infant, makes this assemblage particularly striking. A.T. Lucas published an account of the find in 1960, drawing on what could be recovered after the site's partial destruction in 1958.

Nothing of the mound is visible at ground level today.