was followed. Rushbrook was now
within fifteen yards of the pedlar, and Joey at even less distance from
his father, when he heard the lock of his father's gun click as he
cocked it.

"Father," said Joey, not over loud, "don't--"

"Who's there?" cried the pedlar, turning round. The only reply was the
flash and report of the gun; and the pedlar dropped among the furze.

"Oh father--father!--what have you done?" exclaimed Joey, coming up to
him.

"You here, Joey!" said Rushbrook. "Why are you here?"

"Mother sent me," replied Joey.

"To be evidence against me," replied his father, in wrath.

"Oh no!--to stop you. What have you done, father?"

"What I almost wish I had not done now," replied he, mournfully; "but it
is done, and--"

"And what, father?"

"I am a murderer, I suppose," replied Rushbrook. "He would have
peached, Joey--have had me transported, to work in chains for the rest
of my days, merely for taking a few pheasants. Let us go home;" but
Rushbrook did not move, although he proposed so doing.

He leant upon his gun, with his eyes fixed in the direction where Byres
had fallen.

Joey stood by him--for nearly ten minutes not a word was spoken. At
last Rushbrook said--

"Joey, my boy, I've killed many a man in my time, and I have thought
nothing of it; I slept as sound as ever the next night. But then, you
see, I was a soldier, and it was my trade, and I could look on the man I
had killed without feeling sorrow or shame; but I can't look upon this
man, Joey. He was my enemy; but--I've murdered him--I feel it now. Go
up to him, boy--you are not afraid to meet him--and see if he be dead."

Joey, although generally speaking fear was a stranger to him, did,
however, feel afraid; his hands had often been dyed with the blood of a
hare or of a bird, but he had not yet seen death in his
fellow-creatures. He advanced slowly and tremulously through the dark
towards the furze-bush in which the body laid; Mum followed, raising
first one paw and pausing, then the other, and as they came to the body,
the dog raised his head and gave such a mournful howl, that it induced
our hero to start back again. After a time Joey recovered himself; and
again advanced to the body. He leant over it, he could distinguish but
the form; he listened, and not the slightest breathing was to be heard;
he whispered the pedlar's name, but there was no reply; he put his hand
upon his breast, and removed it reeking with war