him less to what interests him more, he contented himself with hurling
the assailant from him, so that he fell heavily down the sloping ground
to where his companions stood. Then Alec pushed others aside and lifted
the wounded man.

Wounded? His hair was wet with warm blood. There was something done--a
good deal done, by many people--to restore him. Alec remembered
afterwards that the young man who had previously spoken to him had been
active, showing a more personal solicitude than was seen in the awed
kindness even of the women. One lives through such scenes with little
real perception of their details. He knew at last for certain that he
put his burden from him, and throwing himself down laid his ear on the
broad, muscular breast. Long as he listened, there was no movement
there. The mad old preacher was dead.




CHAPTER XXIII.


When Alec Trenholme rose from the dead man's side he felt his shoulder
taken hold of by a familiar hand. He knew at once that it was his
brother. It was quite what he would have expected, that Robert should be
there; it was surely his business to come after straying sheep.

The manslayer, awed and sobered by finding what he had done, had been
easily overpowered. Even his comrades helped to bind him. He was a poor
creature at best, and was now in the misery that comes with sudden
reaction from the exaltation of strong drink.