He seized his rifle and shot-bag, and in a few moments was gone. It was Harry's instinct to have followed him; but Lisette threw herself, weeping, on his neck.
"Don't go—don't!" she said. "What shall we all do without you? Stay with us! You'll certainly be killed, and you can do no good!"
"Consider," said Clayton, "that you have not the familiarity with these swamps, nor the wonderful physical power of this man. It would only be throwing away your life."
The hours of that day passed gloomily. Sometimes the brutal sound of the hunt seemed to sweep near them,—the crack of rifles, the baying of dogs, the sound of oaths,—and then again all went off into silence, and nothing was heard but the innocent patter of leaf upon leaf, and the warbling of the birds, singing cheerily, ignorant of the abyss of cruelty and crime over which they sang.
Towards sunset a rustling was heard in the branches of the oak, and Dred dropped down into the inclosure, wet, and soiled, and wearied. All gathered round him, in a moment.
"Where is Jim?" asked Harry.
"Slain!" said Dred. "The archers pressed him sore and he hath fallen in the wilderness!"
There was a general exclamation of horror. Dred made a movement to sit down on the earth. He lost his balance, and fell; and they all saw now, what at first they had not noticed, a wound in his breast, from which the blood was welling. His wife fell by his side, with wild moans of sorrow. He lifted his hand, and motioned her from him.
"Peace," he said, "peace! It is enough! Behold, I go unto the witnesses who cry day and night!"