James suited the action to the word, and the two boys hurried across the pasture, never venturing to look back at the suffering animal.
Fifteen minutes later, when James and Tom were already at home, Mark Manning entered the narrow foot-path that led across the pasture.
He was immersed in thought, the hermit and his strange experience at the cabin being the subject of his reflections, when he heard a pitiful moaning, not far from him.
Looking up he observed that it proceeded from old Whitey, as the deacon was accustomed to call his favorite cow.
"What's the matter with you, old Whitey?" said Mark, who was always moved by distress, whether in man or beast.
Coming nearer, he was not long left in doubt. The nature of the injury which the poor cow had received was evident to him.
"Poor old Whitey!" he said, pitifully. "Who has shot you in this cruel manner?"
The sole answer was a moan of anguish from the stricken animal.
"I am afraid she will have to be killed!" thought Mark, sadly. "It is only torture for her to live with this injury, and of course there is no cure."
He was still standing beside the cow, gun in hand, when a harsh voice became audible.