somethin’. Ol’ Miz Teasley say she heered ther voices high an’ loud, an’ then she heered a shot right quick, that-a-way, an’ nothin’ more; an’ she sont ol’ man Teasley an’ the preachah out, an’ the hull houseful follered, an’ thar they found Ferd lyin’ shot dade — an’ Frale — he an’ the horse war gone. Ferd, he still held his own gun in his hand tight, like he war goin’ to shoot, with the triggah open an’ his fingah on hit — but he nevah got the chance. Likely if he had, hit would have been him a-hidin’ now, an’ Frale dade. I reckon so.”

Thryng listened in silence. It made him think of the old tales of the Scottish border. So, in plain words, the young man was a murderer. With deep pity he