of sight, the two hurried down the
path.

Willits lay flat on the ground, one arm stretched above his head. He
had measured his full length, the weight of his shoulder breaking some
flower-pots as he fell. Over his right eye gaped an ugly wound from
which oozed a stream of blood that stained his cheek and throat. Dr.
Teackle, on one knee, was searching the patient's heart, while Kate, her
pretty frock soiled with mud, her hair dishevelled, sat crouched in the
dirt rubbing his hands--sobbing bitterly--crying out whenever Harry,
who was kneeling beside her, tried to soothe her:--"No!--No!--My heart's
broken--don't speak to me--go away!"

The colonel, towering above them, looked the scene over, then he
confronted Harry, who had straightened to his feet on seeing his father.

"A pretty piece of work--and on a night like this! A damnable piece of
work, I should say, sir!... Has he killed him, Teackle?"

The young doctor shook his head ominously.

"I cannot tell yet--his heart is still beating."

St. George now joined the group. He and Gilbert and the other seconds
had, in order to maintain secrecy, been rounding up the few negroes who
had seen the encounter, or who had been attracted to the spot by the
firing.

"Harry had my full consent, Talbot--there was really nothing else to do.
Only an ounce of cold lead will do in some cases, and this was one of
them." He was grave and deliberate in manner, but there was an infinite
sadness in his voice.

"He did--did he?" retorted the colonel bitterly. "YOUR full consent!
YOURS! and I in the next room!" Here he beckoned to one of the negroes
who, with staring eyeballs, stood gazing from one to the other. "Come
closer, Eph--not a whisper, remember, or I'll cut the hide off your back
in strips. Tell the others what I say--if a word of this gets into the
big house or around the cabins I'll know who to punish. Now two or three
of you go into the greenhouse, pick up one of those wide planks, and
lift this gentleman onto it so we can carry him. Take him into my
office, doctor, and lay him on my lounge. He'd better die there than
here. Come, Kate--do you go with me. Not a syllable of this, remember,
Kate, to Mrs. Rutter, or anybody else. As for you, sir"--and he looked
Harry squarely in the face--"you will hear from me later on."

With the same calm determination, he entered the ballroom, walked to the
group forming the reel, and, with a set smile on this face indicating
how idle