out there he made the figure of a huge and prostrate cross.




CHAPTER V.


As people waked up in Milton the Wednesday morning after the shooting of
Philip Strong they grew conscious of the fact, as the news came to their
knowledge, that they had been nursing for fifty years one of the most
brutal and cowardly institutions on earth, and licensing it to do the
very thing which at last it had done. For the time being Milton suffered
a genuine shock. Long pent-up feeling against the whisky power burst
out, and public sentiment for once condemned the source of the cowardly
attempt to murder.

Various rumors were flying about. It was said that Mr. Strong had been
stabbed in the back while out making parish calls in company with his
wife, and that she had been wounded by a pistol-shot herself. It was
also said that he had been shot through the heart and instantly killed.
But all these confused reports were finally set at rest when those
calling at the parsonage brought away the exact truth.

The first shot fired by the man from behind the tree struck Philip in
the knee, but the ball glanced off. He felt the blow and staggered, but
his next impulse was to rush in the direction of the sound and disarm
his assailant. That was the reason he had leaped into the street. But
the second shot was better aimed and the bullet crashed into his upper
arm and shoulder, shattering the bone and producing an exceedingly