ody, in ordher to see whether it mightn't be possible
that the dacent boy came by his death from somebody else's hand than his
own. Hould forrid the lights," said he, "till we see how he's lyin', an'
how the gun's lyin'."

"Darby," said young Frank, "I can't but be oblaged to you for that.
You're the last man livin' ought to say what you said, afther you seein'
us both forget an' forgive this day. I call upon you now to say whether
you didn't see him an' me shakin' hands, and buryin' all bad feelin'
between us?"

"I'll spake to you jist now," replied the mendicant. "See here,
neighbors, obsarve this; the boy was shot in the breast, an' here's not
a snow wreath, but a weeshy dhrift that a child 'ud step acrass widout
an accident. I tell you all, that I suspect foul play in this."

"Hell's fire," exclaimed the brother of the deceased, "what's that
you say? What! Can it be--can it--can it--that you murdhered him, you
villain, that's known to be nothin' but a villain? But I'll do for you!"
He snatched at the gun as he spoke, and would probably have taken ample
and fearful vengeance upon Frank, had not the mendicant and others
prevented him.

"Have sinse," said Darby; "this is not the way to behave, man; lave the
gun lyin' where she is, till we see more about us. Stand back there, an'
let me look at these marks: ay, about five yards--there's the track of
feet about five yards before him--here they turn about, an' go back.
Here, Savior o' the world! see here! the mark, clane an' clear, of the
butt o' the gun! Now if that boy stretched afore us had the gun in his
hand the time she went off, could the mark of it be here? Bring me down
the gun--an' the curse o' God upon her for an unlucky thief, whoever had
her! It's thrue!--it's too thrue!" he continued--"the man that had the
gun stood on this spot."

"It's a falsity," said Frank; "it's a damnable falsity. Rody Teague, I
call upon you to spake for me. Didn't you see, when we went out to the
hills, that it was Mike carried the gun, an' not me?"

"I did," replied Rody. "I can swear to that."

"Ay," exclaimed Prank, with triumph; "an' you yourself, Darby, saw us,
as I said, makin' up whatsomever little differences there was betwixt
us."

"I did," replied the mendicant, sternly; "but I heard you say, no longer
ago than last night--say!--why you swhore it, man alive!--that if you
wouldn't have Peggy Gartland, he never should. In your own stable I
heard it, an' I was the ma