as he led it up,
"Doctor Morton!" and with a horror-struck face pointed to a dark wet
stain partly on the saddle, partly on the horse's neck.

George darted round the thicket, and in a moment a cry called Harry to
the same place. A bridle path, more direct than the road, ran close
beside the thorn bushes, and there, half hidden in branches and leaves,
lay something--something that had once been human and living. Dark pools
of blood lay about it, and there were horrible gashes and wounds as if
the murderer had been unable to satisfy his rage, and had taken a
frantic pleasure in mutilating his victim.

The two young men stood and looked at each other and at the ghastly heap
before them. Silently with white faces they questioned each other what
to do? To touch what lay there seemed almost impossible, and any thought
of succour was hopeless; but something must be done. They both drew away
from the spot before they spoke. Then Harry said in a low voice, "There
are plenty of men at the mill; you might fetch some of them."

George went towards the waggon without a word; but just as he was going
to get in he turned round,

"No, Harry, you must go. Somebody must take the news on to Cacouna, and
that can't be me."

"Very well."

Harry was in the waggon instantly, and away. His first errand was
quickly done. In a very few minutes George could see, from the place
where he kept watch, that the men began to hurry out of the mill, and
come towards him in a confused throng. Some, however, stayed to bring a
kind of dray with them, and then, when these also had started, he could
see Harry Scott moving slowly off in the waggon towards the town.

The dray came lumbering over the sand, and the men gathered round the
dreadful heap under the brambles which must be lifted up and laid upon
it, yet which no one seemed ready to be the first to touch. But, at
last, it was done; the distorted limbs were smoothed and the wounds
partially covered; and some semblance of humanity came back to the dead
form as it was carried slowly away towards home. When this had been
done, there was time for another thought--the murderer?

Perhaps every one present had already in his heart convicted one person,
but even in the excitement of horror some one had sense enough to say,
"There ought to be a search made--there may be some trace."

Nor was it difficult to find a trace. At a very little distance from the
spot itself there appeared marks upon the gras