"Come, boys," said Cutler, and his voice penetrated the stillness quite across the clearing, "let us take another drink, and then lie down; we shall have a long journey to-morrow." They all advanced to the table and drained the bottle. Cutler drank last, and then went back to the fire. He again stirred the smouldering cinders with his foot, and, turning about, advanced to close the door. But--he halted suddenly in the middle of the room--his face grew ashy pale--his limbs trembled with terror! Stone stepped upon the threshold, and, without speaking, brought his rifle to his shoulder! Cutler saw that it pointed to his heart, but he had not the power to speak or move! "Villain!" said Stone, in a low, suppressed voice, "your hour has come, at last!" Cutler was by no means a coward; by any one else he would not have been overcome, even for an instant. As it was, he soon recovered himself and sprang forward; but it was only to fall heavily to the floor; for at the same moment Stone fired, and the ball passed directly through his heart! A groan was the only sound he uttered--his arm moved, as in the act of striking, and then fell to the ground--he was dead! The regulators now rushed tumultuously into the house, and at once seized and pinioned the three desperadoes; while Stone walked slowly to the hearth, and resting the breech of his gun upon the floor, leaned calmly upon its muzzle. He had heard a scream from above--a voice which he knew too well. Margaret had been aroused from sleep by the report of the gun; and now, in her night-dress, with her hair streaming in masses over her shoulders, she rushed down the rude stairway. The first object that met her wild gaze was the body of Cutler, stretched upon the floor and already stiffening in death. With another loud scream, she threw herself upon him--mingling lamentations for his death, with curses upon his murderers. Stone's features worked convulsively, and once or twice his hand grasped the hilt of the knife which hung at his belt. At last, with a start, he drew it from the sheath. But, the next moment, he dashed it into the chimney, and leaning his gun against the wall, slowly advanced toward the unhappy woman. Grasping her arm, he lifted her like a child from the body to which she clung. Averting his head, he drew her, struggling madly, to the light; and having brought her face full before the lamp, suddenly threw off his cap, and turned his gaze directly into her eyes. A scream, louder and more fearful than any before, rang even to the woods beyond the clearing; she closed her eyes and shuddered, as if she could not bear to look upon him, whom she had so deeply wronged. He supported her on his arm, and perused her sunken and careworn features, for many minutes, in silence. Then slowly relaxing his grasp-- "You have been punished sufficiently," he said; and seating her gently upon the floor, he quietly replaced his knife in its sheath, resumed his rifle, and left the house.