With a shock Brent recognized in the prostrate form the Jesuit priest whom he had left at St. Gabriel's but two days since, the same man against whose too constant visits he had found it necessary to caution his sister; and now to meet him _thus_! He rushed toward the body and knelt beside it. Tearing away cloak and cassock and hair-shirt under all, he leaned his ear above the heart. For a full minute he listened. "He is dead," he said at last, "and must have been dead for hours." "You know him?" "Ay, he is one of the Fathers at St. Inigo's. He was staying with my sister Mary at St. Gabriel's, and probably had started on the journey back to the Hill when this overtook him;" and Brent began rapidly to repeat a prayer for the dead. Huntoon stood by in silence with bowed head. When Brent had finished Huntoon said,-- "Did he--was death natural?" Brent shook his head gloomily. "Look," he said; and as Huntoon stooped, he drew aside the shirt and showed a wound on the left side above the fifth rib. The clothing below it was dark and stiff with blood. No words were needed to tell the tale. "It must have been done by a native," said Huntoon. "Ay, 'twas a deed of revenge or pure malice,--either of a native or, perhaps, of some of the Protestants. To say truth, Father Mohl had many enemies among them. He has been a great stirrer up of dissension 'twixt Catholic and Protestant, and 'tis partly on account of him and his brethren that Leonard Calvert is gone home to consult with Lord Baltimore. Father Mohl had ever a sneering way with him, and to look at him one would say he had taken it with him to the next world." "Ay, 'tis a ghastly smile! Think you could we draw the lips more together and close the eyelids above that horrible stare?" "You can try. Nay--'tis vain." "Hulloa! Hulloa! Hulla-ho!" The distant call brought back the two men for the first time to the thought of their comrades. Huntoon looking round saw that the donkey had entangled his reins in the low branches of a tree near by. As he moved toward it Brent called out,-- "Nay, leave him there! We shall have need of him. Take my horse and go back to the women, and prepare them for what they must see. Mount Mistress Neville on Anne's donkey, then stay you with them and my horse, and send Neale and Cornwaleys back to help me here." The younger man bowed and turned back as he was bidden. At the joining of the road he saw the four grouped where he had left them, Neale and Cornwaleys talking in low tones, and Peggy feeding nuts to a wild squirrel half tamed by the magic of her voice. "Come, bunny! bunny! bunny! Here's fresh nuts gathered in the woods this fall. Be not afraid! I'm as harmless as thou. I have no gun and could not fire it if I had. Nay, do not cock thy head and turn thy black eye toward Captain Cornwaleys! He reserves his fire for larger game. Why, he will not even shoot a glance at me, for all I have on my best bib and tucker."