For one immense moment Nort saw himself running away, and with an incredible inner sense of relief and comfort. He wanted to run, intended to run, but somehow he could not. He was afraid to fight, but somehow he was still more afraid to run. And then, with a blinding flash he thought of Anthy. What would she say if she saw him running? At that moment Fergus struck him lightly on the cheek. It was like an electric shock to Nort. He stiffened in every muscle, red flashes passed before his eyes, his throat twisted hard and dry, and the tears came up to his eyes. In another moment he was grappling with Fergus, striking wildly, blindly. And he was, curiously, no longer confused. An incredible clearness of purpose swept over him. This purpose was to _kill_ Fergus. There was to be no longer any foolery about it; he was going to kill him. If Fergus had known what Nort was thinking at that moment he would have been horrified and shocked beyond measure. Fergus had not the most distant intent of injuring Nort seriously. He did not even hate him, but, I fully believe, really loved him, and was going through this disagreeable business quite coldly. As he received Nort's impetuous assault, he smiled with a sort of high exultation and found words to remark: "The mair haste, Nort, the waur speed." With that he hit out squarely with his wiry, muscular arm--just once--and Nort went down in the bracken and lay quite still. Fergus stood looking down at him: the silent face upturned, very white, very boyish, very beautiful, the soft hair tumbling about his temples, the lax arms spread out among the leaves. And all around the still woods, and quiet fields, and the robins singing, and the sun coming up over the hill. As Fergus looked down his breast began to heave and the tears came into his eyes. "The bonnie, bonnie lad," he said; "he wadna run awa'." Presently Nort stirred uneasily. "Where am I?" he asked. "Come, now," said Fergus tenderly, "we'll get down ta the brook." With one arm around him, Fergus helped him through the woods, and knelt beside him while he dashed the cold water over his face and head. "I hit ye hard," said Fergus, "and it's likely yer eye'll be blackened." Nort sat down with his back to a tree trunk. He was sick and dizzy. It seemed to him that the thing he wanted most in all the world was to be left alone. "I'm going away, Fergus. Leave me here. I shall not go back to Hempfield."