Left alone, Hugh gave himself up to thought, as he walked toward the outskirts or the town, in the direction of Dead Man’s Hollow. Arriving on the brow of the hill, his heart smote him, for there, locked in each other arms in deepest grief, were Marie Hampton and Ethel Horton. He remembered his first evening at Major Hampton’s home, and he marveled at the great change that had been wrought. The innocent, light-hearted girl had awakened to a sorrow which words could not comfort, a grief that he himself shared.
Then came to him the memory of his dream, wherein he had seen Marie standing before him weeping bitterly, her fair cheeks and violet eyes all bathed in tears, while near her was Ethel endeavoring to speak words of consolation. Between them was a mound of earth, and, looking closer, he saw that it was a new-made grave.
CHAPTER XLIII.—UNDER THE QUIET STARS
THE story of the midnight murder of Maj. Buell Hampton at the hands of the Vigilantes traveled swiftly from door to door across the bleak Kansas prairies.
Again the people thronged the streets of Meade. The lamentations of bronzed men and emaciated women, with pale-faced babes clinging to their breasts, was a scene never to be forgotten. These were the ones who had received charities from this man of complex destiny.
No broad-brimmed sombreros and Mexican spurs were observable among the people. The cattlemen were conspicuous only by their absence.
The sudden and startling discovery of Maj. Buell Hampton’s misdeeds on the day before had intimidated many into partial inaction. Twenty-four hours had changed all this, however, and a love for their idol, the man of gentle manners and of generous acts, rose up before them like a spirit from the martyr’s grave. The eyes of the gaunt and half-famished women were red with weeping, while mutterings of vengeance were heard on every side from the lips of disappointed and restless men.
Some few seemed inclined to blame Captain Osborn for his assurance of the prisoner’s safety, in his speech of the night before.