Fortner, Glen and Edwards came down as quickly as possible, the latter spraining his ankle badly by making a venturesome leap to reach the road first. They found a man that Fortner had shot at stone dead, with a bullet through his temple. The other two had been struck in the body. Their horses stood near, looking wonderingly at their prostrate masters. Bolton was rubbing his bruises and abrasions, and vituperating everything, from the conduct of the war to the steepness of Kentucky mountains. Aunt Debby had partially recovered from the stunning of her fall, and limped slowly up, with her long riding-skirt raised by one hand. Her lips were compressed, an her great gray eyes blazed with excitement. They all went to the side of the road, and looked down at the crushed and bleeding mass in the creek. “My God! that's awful,” said Henry, with a rising sickness about his heart, as the excitement began subsiding. “Plenty good enuf fur scoundrels who rob poor men of all they hev,” said Fortner fiercely, as he re-loaded his rifle. “Hit's not bad enuf fur thieves an' robbers.” “Hit's God's judgement on the wicked an' the opporessor,” said Aunt Debby, with solemn pitilessness. “Hadn't we better try to get down there, and help those men out?” suggested Harry. “Perhaps they are not dead yet.” “Aunt Debby, thet thar hoss thet's rain' his head an' whinnyin',” said Fortner, with sudden interest, “is Joel Sprigg's roan geldin', sho's yore bo'n, honey.” He pointed to where a shapely head was raised, and almost human agony looked out of great liquid eyes. “Thet wuz the finest hoss in Laurel County, an' they've stole 'im from Joel. Hit'll 'bout break his heart, fur he set a powerful sight o'store on thet there beast. Pore critter! hit makes me sick ter see 'im suffer thet-a-way! I've a mind ter put 'im outen his misery, but I'm afeered I can't shoot 'im, so long ez he looks at me with them big pitiful eyes o' his'n. They go right ter my heart.” “You'd better shoot him,” urged Aunt Debby. “Hit's a si ter let an innocent critter suffer thet-a-way.” Fortner raised his rifle, and sent a bullet through the mangled brute's brain. Aunt Debby's eyes became fixed on a point where, a mile away down the mountain, a bend in the road was visible through an opening in the trees. “Look out,” she said, as the echoes of the shot died away, “thar comes a hull lot on 'em.” They looked and saw plainly a large squad of cavalry, with a wagon behind.