He recalled the position of the bodies which they had left in the
darkness. He had seen them by the light of the lantern which Brown had
flashed each time before leaving. He remembered with a shiver that the
two Doyle boys had died with their big soft blue eyes wide open, staring
upward at the starlit skies. He wondered if the rain had beaten their
eyelids down.

A blinding flash filled the sky and lighted every nook and corner of the
woods and fields. He shook at its glare and put his hand over his eyes.
For a moment he could see nothing but the wide staring gaze upward
of those stalwart young bodies. He shivered and turned away from the
leader.

The next moment found him again watching the look of victory on the
terrible face.

As the lightning played about Brown's form he wondered at the impression
of age he gave with his face turned away and his figure motionless. He
was barely fifty-seven and yet he looked seventy-five, until he moved.

The moment his wiry body moved there was something uncanny in the
impression he gave of a wild animal caught in human form.

Brown had tired waiting for the shower to pass and had begun to pace
back and forth with his swinging, springy step. When he passed, Townsley
instinctively drew aside. He knew that he was a coward and yet he
couldn't feel the consciousness of cowardice in giving this man room. It
was common sense.

The storm passed as swiftly as it came.

Without a word the leader gave the signal. His men mounted the stolen
horses. With Townsley's grays and Weiner's pony the huntsmen returned to
the camp in the ravine, a procession of cavalry.

The eastern sky was whitening with the first touch of the coming sun
when they dismounted.

The leader ordered the fire built and a hearty breakfast cooked for each
man. As was his custom he wandered from the camp alone, his arms gripped
behind his stooped back. He climbed the hill, stood on its crest and
watched the prairie.

The storm had passed from west to east. On the eastern horizon a low
fringe of clouds was still slowly moving. They lay in long ribbons of
dazzling light. The sun's rays flashed through them every color of the
rainbow. Now they were a deep purple, growing brighter with each moment,
until every flower in the waving fields was touched with its glory. The
purple melted into orange; the waving fields were set with dazzling
buttercups; the buttercups became poppies. And then the mounting sun
kissed the c