“Well, he quarrels with my young friend, the worthy son of Brother Hinkley—”
“Do not speak of that ungrateful cub. Brother Stevens did not quarrel with him. He quarrelled with Brother Stevens, and would have murdered him, but that I put in in time to save.”
“Say not so, Mr. Hinkley. I have good reason to believe that Stevens went forth especially to fight with William.”
“I would not believe it, if a prophet were to tell me it.”
“Nevertheless, I believe it. We found both of them placed at the usual fighting-distance.”
“Ah! but where were Brother Stevens's pistols?”
“In his pocket, I suppose.”
“He had none. He was at a distance from my ungrateful son, and flying that he should not be murdered. The lamb under the hands of the butcher. And would you believe it, Brother Cross, he had gone forth only to counsel the unworthy boy—only to bring him back into the fold—gone forth at his own prayer, as Brother Stevens declared to Betsy, just before he went out.”
“I am of opinion that he deceived her and yourself.”
“Where were his pistols then?”