"I forget which," returned the justice. "I heard Isaac say that one of them did. To tell you the truth, captain, I sat late in the dining-room last night, and my head's none of the clearest this morning. How do you find yours, Kyne?"
"Oh, mine's all right, sir," answered the supervisor hastily. "A man in office is obliged to be cautious in what he takes."
"Ah, there's no coming over you," cried the justice, with a side wink to Captain Copp.
"There's Mr. Isaac hisself, a coming round the point now," exclaimed one of the fishermen.
The crowd turned and saw him. Isaac Thornycroft was approaching with a rapid step.
"They say Hunter is murdered!" he called out. "It cannot be."
"He is lying here, stiff and cold, Isaac, with a bullet in his head," was the sad reply of the justice. "Shot down from the heights above."
Isaac stooped in silence. His fair complexion and fine colour, heightened by the morning air, were something bright to look upon. But, as he gazed at that sadly disfigured form, yesterday so animate with life and health, a paleness as of the grave overspread his face; a shudder, which shook him from head to foot, passed through his frame.
"What brought him here--or on the plateau?" he asked. Almost the same words his father had used.
"What indeed!" repeated Mr. Thornycroft. "Did you tell me you saw him off, Isaac? Or was it Richard?"