Will Benton drew the girl to his side.
“I know now,” he exclaimed, “why you feared him. I saw his face for a second, and there was murder in it, murder and hell.”
The two boys who, hearing the short-lived scream of the gypsy, had turned in time to see the memorable blow which had brought Pete to earth, were gazing in awe at the Prefect of the Sodality. It was something to be remembered. It was a blow which was to go down in the traditions of Campion College. For Pete, the murderer of Ben, the would-be murderer of Dora, never came to face trial. He lingered for several weeks. But the blow made trial unnecessary.
“O Will!” cried John Rieler, “how did you manage to see him hiding there?”
“He gave himself away,” answered the young giant. “His fury and hatred got the better of him. When Dora spoke about Ben’s dying a Catholic and used the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, he couldn’t stand it. He had his arm raised holding that stone, and was just about to bring it down on Dora’s head. A hiss escaped him, and I spied him while his arm was still moving: and—and—I really don’t know how I caught him in time.”
Father Keenan arrived at this juncture; and the two boys and Dora all began explaining at once. Out of the babel he gathered that Pete who, after stabbing Ben, took flight with his wife and kinsfolk, had returned—as murderers sometimes do—to find out the result of the stabbing; how his hatred goaded him on to attempt Dora’s life, and how the brother with lightning speed had inflicted with his one hand a wrench, and with the other a blow which no one who had seen them could ever forget.
“Dan,” called Father Keenan to the chauffeur, having ascertained that Pete was alive, “get busy. Bring Pete to the Sheriff at Lynxville; hire another automobile—a large one for Dorcas and her children. We are going to bring Ben’s body to Prairie du Chien. I shall go with them. And come back here as fast as you can. We’ll be ready to start long before that.”
The Rector and the chauffeur put the insensible Pete in the tonneau.
“One moment, Dan,” said Will Benton, who had taken out a pad and written a few lines. “If Father Rector has no objection, I’d like you to send this telegram to my father.” Then he read aloud: “Dora alive, well, and found. She is with me. Hurrah!—Will Benton.”
“Good for you, Will,” said the Rector. “Your mind works as well as your fists. Thank you, for reminding me.”