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Zeb
Stump
knew
the
disposition
of
Maurice
Gerald
in
regard
to
Henry
Poindexter
.
More
than
once
he
had
heard
the
mustanger
speak
of
the
young
planter
.
Instead
of
having
a
hostility
towards
him
,
he
had
frequently
expressed
admiration
of
his
ingenuous
and
generous
character
.
That
he
could
have
changed
from
being
his
friend
to
become
his
assassin
,
was
too
improbable
for
belief
.
Only
by
the
evidence
of
his
eyes
could
Zeb
Stump
have
been
brought
to
believe
it
.
After
spending
a
full
half
hour
at
his
"
think
,
"
he
had
made
but
little
progress
towards
unravelling
the
network
of
cognate
,
yet
unconnected
,
circumstances
.
Despite
an
intellect
unusually
clear
,
and
the
possession
of
strong
powers
of
analysis
,
he
was
unable
to
reach
any
rational
solution
of
this
mysterious
drama
of
many
acts
.
The
only
thing
clear
to
him
was
,
that
four
mounted
men
--
he
did
not
believe
them
to
be
Indians
--
had
been
making
free
with
the
mustanger
's
hut
;
and
that
it
was
most
probable
that
these
had
something
to
do
with
the
murder
that
had
been
committed
.
But
the
presence
of
these
men
at
the
jacalé
,
coupled
with
the
protracted
absence
of
its
owner
,
conducted
his
conjectures
to
a
still
more
melancholy
conclusion
:
that
more
than
one
man
had
fallen
a
sacrifice
to
the
assassin
,
and
that
the
thicket
might
be
searched
for
two
bodies
,
instead
of
one
!
A
groan
escaped
from
the
bosom
of
the
backwoodsman
as
this
conviction
forced
itself
upon
his
mind
.
He
entertained
for
the
young
Irishman
a
peculiar
affection
--
strong
almost
as
that
felt
by
a
father
for
his
son
;
and
the
thought
that
he
had
been
foully
assassinated
in
some
obscure
corner
of
the
chapparal
,
his
flesh
to
be
torn
by
the
beak
of
the
buzzard
and
the
teeth
of
the
coyoté
,
stirred
the
old
hunter
to
the
very
core
of
his
heart
.
He
groaned
again
,
as
he
reflected
upon
it
;
until
,
without
action
,
he
could
no
longer
bear
the
agonising
thought
,
and
,
springing
to
his
feet
,
he
strode
to
and
fro
over
the
ground
,
proclaiming
,
in
loud
tones
,
his
purpose
of
vengeance
.
So
absorbed
was
he
with
his
sorrowful
indignation
,
that
he
saw
not
the
staghound
as
it
came
skulking
up
to
the
hut
.
It
was
not
until
he
heard
Phelim
caressing
the
hound
in
his
grotesque
Irish
fashion
,
that
he
became
aware
of
the
creature
's
presence
.
And
then
he
remained
indifferent
to
it
,
until
a
shout
of
surprise
,
coupled
with
his
own
name
,
attracted
his
attention
.
"
What
is
it
,
Pheelum
?
What
's
wrong
?
Hes
a
snake
bit
ye
?
"
