By this time Butler and Henry Lindsay, attracted by the shouts that reached them at the cottage, had arrived at the scene of these dreadful events. Wat Adair was, at this moment, undergoing the punishment for which his first sentence was commuted. The lashes were inflicted by a sturdy arm upon his uncovered back; and it was remarkable that the wretch who but lately had sunk, with the most slavish fear, under the threat of death, now bore his stripes with a fortitude that seemed to disdain complaint or even the confession of pain. Butler and Henry hurried with a natural disgust from this spectacle, and soon found themselves near the spot where the lifeless forms of the victims of military vengeance were suspended from the tree.
"Gracious Heaven!" exclaimed Butler, "is not that St. Jermyn? What has he done to provoke this doom?"
"It is Tyrrel!" ejaculated Henry. "Major Butler, it is Tyrrel! That face, black and horrible as it is to look at, I would know it among a thousand!"
"Indeed!" said Butler, gazing with a melancholy earnestness upon the scene, and speaking scarce above his breath, "is it so? Tyrrel and St. Jermyn the same person! This is a strange mystery."
Robinson, at this moment, approached, and, in answer to Butler's questions, told the whole story of the commotions that had just agitated the camp.
"St. Jermyn was not with Ferguson," said Butler, when the sergeant had finished his narrative. "How came he here to-day?"
"First or last," replied Robinson, "it is my observation, Major, that these schemers and contrivers against others' lives are sure to come to account. The devil put it into this St. Jermyn's head to make Ferguson a visit. He came yesterday with Mr. Lindsay, and got the poor gentleman his hurt. James Curry has done working for him now, Major. Master and man have travelled one road."
The scene was now closed. The business of the day called the troops to other labors. Campbell felt the necessity of an immediate retreat with his prisoners to the mountains, and his earliest orders directed the army to prepare for the march.
When Butler returned to the cottage, he found himself surrounded by a mournful group. The malady of Lindsay had unexpectedly taken a fatal turn. Mildred and Henry were seated by the couch of their father, watching in mute anguish the last ebbings of life. The dying man was composed and apparently free from pain, and the few words he spoke were of forgiveness and resignation.
In the midst of their sorrow and silence, the inmates of the dwelling had their attention awakened by the military music of the retiring army. These cheerful sounds vividly contrasted with the grief of the mourners, and told of the professional indifference of soldiers to the calamities of war. By degrees, the martial tones became more faint, as the troops receded up the valley; and before they were quite lost to the ear, Campbell and Shelby appeared at the door of the cottage to explain the urgency of their present departure, and to take a sad farewell of their friends.