On arriving within view of the corpse, there was a slight pause; for, notwithstanding the dreadful paroxysms of their grief, there was something still more startling and terrible in contemplating the body thus stretched out in the stillness of death, on the lonely mountain. The impression it produced was peculiarly solemn: the grief was hushed for a moment, but only for a moment; it rose again wilder than before, and in a few minutes the friends of Reillaghan were about to throw themselves upon the body, under the strong impulse of sorrow and affection. The mendicant, however, stepped forward “Hould back,” said he; “it's hard to ax yez to do it, but still you must. Let the neighbors about us here examine the body, in ordher to see whether it mightn't be possible that the dacent boy came by his death from somebody else's hand than his own. Hould forrid the lights,” said he, “till we see how he's lyin', an' how the gun's lyin'.” “Darby,” said young Frank, “I can't but be oblaged to you for that. You're the last man livin' ought to say what you said, afther you seein' us both forget an' forgive this day. I call upon you now to say whether you didn't see him an' me shakin' hands, and buryin' all bad feelin' between us?” “I'll spake to you jist now,” replied the mendicant. “See here, neighbors, obsarve this; the boy was shot in the breast, an' here's not a snow wreath, but a weeshy dhrift that a child 'ud step acrass widout an accident. I tell you all, that I suspect foul play in this.” “Hell's fire,” exclaimed the brother of the deceased, “what's that you say? What! Can it be--can it--can it--that you murdhered him, you villain, that's known to be nothin' but a villain? But I'll do for you!” He snatched at the gun as he spoke, and would probably have taken ample and fearful vengeance upon Frank, had not the mendicant and others prevented him. “Have sinse,” said Darby; “this is not the way to behave, man; lave the gun lyin' where she is, till we see more about us. Stand back there, an' let me look at these marks: ay, about five yards--there's the track of feet about five yards before him--here they turn about, an' go back. Here, Savior o' the world! see here! the mark, clane an' clear, of the butt o' the gun! Now if that boy stretched afore us had the gun in his hand the time she went off, could the mark of it be here? Bring me down the gun--an' the curse o' God upon her for an unlucky thief, whoever had her! It's thrue!--it's too thrue!” he continued--“the man that had the gun stood on this spot.” “It's a falsity,” said Frank; “it's a damnable falsity. Rody Teague, I call upon you to spake for me. Didn't you see, when we went out to the hills, that it was Mike carried the gun, an' not me?” “I did,” replied Rody. “I can swear to that.” “Ay,” exclaimed Prank, with triumph; “an' you yourself, Darby, saw us, as I said, makin' up whatsomever little differences there was betwixt us.”