motionless body. He felt as though a terrible retribution had fallen upon
somebody, who had been killed in the act of attempting to destroy his
property. Seizing his lantern, he retreated to the cellar stairs by which
he had descended, and stood there for a moment, his tongue paralyzed, and
his knees smiting each other, in the agony of terror.

We do not know what he was afraid of, but we suppose that instinctive
dread which some people manifest in the presence of death, had completely
overcome him. Certainly there was nothing to be afraid of, for a dead man
is not half so likely to do a person an injury as a living one. But in a
few minutes Squire Pemberton in some measure recovered his
self-possession.

"There is a dead man down here!" he called up the staircase, in quaking
tones.

"Mercy on us!" exclaimed Mrs. Pemberton. "Who is he?"

"I don't know," replied the squire.

"Look and see who it is, father," added Mrs. Pemberton. "Perhaps he isn't
dead."

"Stone dead," persisted the squire. "He fell into the cellar and broke his
neck."

"Go and see who it is--will you?"

"Well, you come down and hold the light," said the squire, who was not
quite willing to say that he was scared out of his wits.