"I know that," muttered Bob; "I know that, squire; but it leaves me no peace, and it must out. I've been to San Felipe de Austin, to Anahuac, every where, but it's all no use. Wherever I go, the spectre follows me, and drives me back under the cursed Patriarch."
"Under the Patriarch!" exclaimed the judge.
"Ay, under the Patriarch!" groaned Bob. "Don't you know the Patriarch; the old live oak near the ford, on the Jacinto?"
"I know, I know!" answered the Judge. "And what drives you under the Patriarch?"
"What drives me? What drives a man who—who"——
"A man who"—— repeated the judge, gently.
"A man," continued Bob, in the same low tone, "who has sent a rifle bullet into another's heart. He lies there, under the Patriarch, whom I"——
"Whom you?" asked the judge.
"Whom I killed!" said Bob, in a hollow whisper.
"Killed!" exclaimed the judge. "You killed him? Whom?"