was
awfully and blasphemously blended with sounds that may not be repeated.
The squatter stopped, and for a moment he covered his ears with his
hands. When he withdrew the latter, a low and husky voice at his elbow
asked in smothered tones--

"Ishmael, my man, heard ye nothing?"

"Hist," returned the husband, laying a powerful arm on Esther, without
manifesting the smallest surprise at the unlooked-for presence of his
wife. "Hist, woman! if you have the fear of Heaven, be still!"

A profound silence succeeded. Though the wind rose and fell as before,
its rushing was no longer mingled with those fearful cries. The sounds
were imposing and solemn, but it was the solemnity and majesty of
nature.

"Let us go on," said Esther; "all is hushed."

"Woman, what has brought you here?" demanded her husband, whose blood
had returned into its former channels, and whose thoughts had already
lost a portion of their excitement.

"Ishmael, he murdered our first-born; but it is not meet that the son of
my mother should lie upon the ground, like the carrion of a dog!"

"Follow," returned the squatter, again grasping his rifle, and striding
towards the rock. The distance was still considerable; and their
approach, as they drew nigh the place of execution, was moderated by
awe. Many minutes had passed, before they reached a spot where they
might distinguish the outlines of the dusky objects.

"Where have you put the body?" whispered Esther. "See, here are pick and
spade, that a brother of mine may sleep in the bosom of the earth!"

The moon broke from behind a mass of clouds, and the eye of the woman
was enabled to follow the finger of Ishmael. It pointed to a human form
swinging in the wind, beneath the ragged and shining arm of the willow.
Esther bent her head and veiled her eyes from the sight. But Ishmael
drew nigher, and long contemplated his work in awe, though not in
compunction. The leaves of the sacred book were scattered on the ground,
and even a fragment of the shelf had been displaced by the kidnapper
in his agony. But all was now in the stillness of death. The grim and
convulsed countenance of the victim was at times brought full into the
light of the moon, and again as the wind lulled, the fatal rope drew a
dark line across its bright disk. The squatter raised his rifle, with
extreme care, and fired. The cord was cut and the body came lumbering to
the earth a heavy and insensible mass.

Until now Esther had not mov