“Why not?” said Phineas; “serves him right.”
“Because after death comes the judgment,” said Eliza.
“Yes,” said the old woman, who had been groaning and praying, in her Methodist fashion, during all the encounter, “it’s an awful case for the poor crittur’s soul.”
“On my word, they’re leaving him, I do believe,” said Phineas.
It was true; for after some appearance of irresolution and consultation, the whole party got on their horses and rode away. When they were quite out of sight, Phineas began to bestir himself.
“Well, we must go down and walk a piece,” he said. “I told Michael to go forward and bring help, and be along back here with the wagon; but we shall have to walk a piece along the road, I reckon, to meet them. The Lord grant he be along soon! It’s early in the day; there won’t be much travel afoot yet a while; we an’t much more than two miles from our stopping-place. If the road hadn’t been so rough last night, we could have outrun ’em entirely.”
As the party neared the fence, they discovered in the distance, along the road, their own wagon coming back, accompanied by some men on horseback.
“Well, now, there’s Michael, and Stephen and Amariah,” exclaimed Phineas, joyfully. “Now we are made—as safe as if we’d got there.”
“Well, do stop, then,” said Eliza, “and do something for that poor man; he’s groaning dreadfully.”
“It would be no more than Christian,” said George; “let’s take him up and carry him on.”