dull, hardy woodman as he was, he felt now as a child feels in the dark,
afraid of he knew not what.

The way was very weary. He trudged on beside the cart. Something went
wrong with one of his boots, and he stopped the oxen in order to take it
off. The animals, thus checked, stood absolutely still, hanging down
their heads in an attitude of rest. The man went behind the cart and sat
on its edge. He leaned on the end of the coffin as he examined the boot.
When that was put right he could not deny himself the luxury of a few
minutes' rest. The oxen, with hanging heads, looked as if they had gone
to sleep. The man hung his head also, and might have been dozing from
his appearance. He was not asleep, however. What mental machinery he had
began to work more freely, and he actually did something that might be
called thinking on the one subject that had lain as a dormant matter of
curiosity in his head all day--namely, how the girl would act when she
woke to find the cart was actually gone and she left behind. He had seen
old Cameron die, and heard Bates promise to do his best for his
daughter; he remembered her tears and pleading on the preceding day; the
situation came to him now, as perceptions come to dull minds, with force
that had gathered with the lapse of time. He had not the refinement and
acuteness of mind necessary to make him understand the disinterested
element in Bates's tyranny, and while he sympathised cunningly with the
selfishness of which, in his mind, he accused Bates, it seemed to him
that the promise to the dead was broken, and he thought upon such
calamities as might befall in token of the dead man's revenge.

How awfully silent it was! There was no breath in the chill, still air;
there was no sound of life in all the dark, close brushwood; the oxen
slept; and Saul, appalled by the silence that had come with his silence,
appalled to realise more vividly than ever that he, and he alone, had