"Suffering, colonel?"
"Aye, suffering! From what think you? The pangs of remorse!"
"Remorse! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" laughed the outlaw till all the rafters rang.
"Aye, man, you may laugh; but I repeat that I am tortured with remorse! And for what do you suppose? For those acts of self-preservation that fanatics and fools would stigmatize as crimes? No, my good fellow, no! but for one 'unacted crime!'"
"I told your honor so!" cried the outlaw, triumphantly.
"Donald, when I go to church, as I do constantly, I hear the preacher prating of repentance; but man, I never knew the meaning of the word until recently."
"And I can almost guess what it is that has enlightened your honor?" said the outlaw.
"Yes, it is that miserable old woman and babe! Donald, in every vein of my soul I repent not having silenced them both forever while they were yet in my power!"
"Just so, colonel; the dead never come back, or if they do, are not recognized as property holders in this world. I wish your honor had taken my advice and sent that woman and child on a longer journey."
"Donald, I was younger then than now. I—shrank from bloodshed," said the man in a husky voice.