"It was just dawn, sir, and we went down the road—we were on horseback—quite a good bit of miles. There wasn't any sign until we came to where Indian Run crosses the road; but on the further side, where there's a strip of rocks, you know, sir—"
The speaker stopped short. "They found him there, Fair," finished Major Edward.
The young man turned squarely to the old. "Thank you, sir. You are the man for me. Was he—is he badly hurt?"
"There's nothing can ever hurt him more, my dear. It is you, and we with you, who must suffer now. They found him—they found him dead, Fair."
There was a silence; then, "Ludwell—Ludwell dead?" said Cary. "I don't believe you, Major Churchill."
He turned, walked to a bench that ran along the wall, and sat down. "Eli, get up from there and stop that camp-meeting wailing! Mr. Wilson, you perhaps do not yet know my brother's horse—black with a white star. Colonel Dick, they've got hold of the wrong end of some damned rigmarole or other—"
"I didn't know the horse, sir," replied Wilson, not without gentleness, "for I've been out of the county for a long time, and your brother used to ride a bay. But I knew your brother, sir."
"That's what I said, too, Fair," groaned Colonel Churchill from the steps. "I said it was all a damned mistake. But I was wrong. You listen to Edward. Edward, tell him all!"
"Yes, Dick. It is true, Fair, damnably, devilishly true. He had been dead for hours, Fair."
"Joe White's something of a doctor, sir," put in Wilson. "Joe said he would have been lying there since before the storm."