atever substance had been in him at his birth trustworthy rose up now
to meet the voice of God that called to him aloud. His lank jaws grew
red, his eyes a deeper blue, a look in them which his mother may have
seen the like of years and years ago; he beat with his knuckles on his
breast nervously.

"If there could be a chance!" he said, unceasingly; "if I might try
again!"

There was a crackling in the snow-laden bushes upon the hill: he looked
back, and saw his brother coming from the other side, his game-bag over
his shoulder, stooping to avoid notice, his eyes fixed intently on some
object on the road beyond. It was an old man on horseback, jogging
slowly up the path, whistling as he came. Yarrow shuddered with a sudden
horror.

"He means murder! That is Frazier. You could not do it to-day, John!
To-day!" as if Soule could hear him.

He was between his brother and his victim. The old man came slower, the
hill being steep, looking at the frosted trees, and seeing neither
Yarrow nor the burly figure crouching, tiger-like, among the bushes. One
moment, and he would have passed the bend of the hill,--Soule could
reach him.

"God help me!" whispered Yarrow, and threw himself forward, pushing the
horse back on his haunches. "Go back! Ten steps farther, and it's too
late! Back, I say!"

The old man gasped.

"Why! what! a slip? an' water-gully?"

"No matter," leading the horse, trembling from head to foot.

Up on the hill there was a sharp break, a heavy footstep on a dead root.
Would John go back or come on? he was strong enough to master both.
Yarrow's throat choked, but he led the horse steadily down the path,
deaf to Frazier's questions.

"Do not draw rein until you reach the station," giving him the bridle at
last.

The old man looked back: he had seen the figure dimly.

"If there's danger, I'll not leave you to meet it alone, my friend,"
fumbling in his breast for a weapon.

Yarrow stamped impatiently.

"Put spurs to your horse!"--wiping his mouth; "it will be yet too late!"

Frazier gave a glance at his face, and obeyed him. A moment more, and he
was out of sight. Yarrow watched him, and then slowly turned, and raised
his head. Soule had come down, and was standing close beside him,
leaning on his gun. It was the last time the brothers ever faced each
other, and their natures, as God made them, came out bare in that look:
Yarrow's, under all, was the tougher-fibred of the two. John's eyes
fell.