"I don't believe they have pluck enough to do anything of the kind. Look
what miserable fellows those are that Dawson has at the mill now. They
look as if all the spirit had been starved out of them."

So they went on talking until they caught glimpses of the mill before
them, whenever their way lay over the open ground; and then George
Anderson touched the horse with his whip, and they began to get over the
remaining distance more quickly. They were trotting briskly round the
side of a low thicket of brambles, when suddenly a horse, which was
grazing on the further side, raised its head and looked at them. There
was nothing remarkable in that, certainly, for horses were not
unfrequently turned out there; but what was remarkable, was that this
one had a bridle on. George involuntarily tightened his reins; and the
next moment the animal, which seemed to have been disturbed by their
coming, trotted slowly across the road in front of them. It was bridled
and saddled, and the saddle was a little on one side, as if it had been
dragged round. Harry sprang from the waggon. He followed the horse, and
in a minute or two caught and led it back to where George, who had also
dismounted, was now tying his to a tree.

They both recognized the runaway. Harry said one word as he led it up,
"Doctor Morton!" and with a horror-struck face pointed to a dark wet
stain partly on the saddle, partly on the horse's neck.

George darted round the thicket, and in a moment a cry called Harry to
the same place. A bridle path, more direct than the road, ran close
beside the thorn bushes, and there, half hidden in branches and leaves,
lay something--something that had once been human and living. Dark pools
of blood lay about it, and there were horrible gashes and wounds as if
the murderer had been unable to satisfy his rage, and had taken a