"Oh! they are—are they?" muttered Jack, triumphantly; "that'll do. " "Very true," chuckled Jackson; "very true. " This exclamation had scarcely escaped him, when the discharge of a pistol was heard, and a bullet whizzed past his ears. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. To stumble upon the trail through the agency of a bottle of whisky! Drank queer; so his bottle had rendered him conspicuous. Only sat, staring at him, a puzzled look in her face. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen.
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