bullet lodged in Fingall's skull."

Pierre paused now, and waved with his hand towards the mist which hung
high up like a canopy between the hills.

"But," said Lawless, not heeding the scene, "what about that sixth
bullet?"

"Holy, it is plain! Fingall did not fire the shot. His revolver was full,
every chamber, when Cynthie first took it."

"Who killed the lad?"

"Can you not guess? There had been words between the father and the boy:
both had fierce blood. The father, in a mad minute, fired; the boy wanted
revenge on Fingall, and, to save his father, laid it on the other. The
old man? Well, I do not know whether he was a coward, or stupid, or
ashamed--he let Fingall take it."

"Fingall took it to spare the girl, eh?"

"For the girl. It wasn't good for her to know her father killed his own
son."

"What came after?"

"The worst. That night the girl's father killed himself, and the two were
buried in the same grave. Cynthie--"

"Fingall! Fingall!--Oh, Fingall!"