“We ain’t lyin’,” declared Randolph.  “Everybody knows it only you.”

The words were no sooner said than Fred fell upon him like a madman.  Randolph roared lustily for help, and Reginald valiantly strove to save him from Fred’s fury.  But they retreated before him as he rained his blows upon them both.

Then Reginald, finding that he was no match for Fred in open conflict, dodged around behind him, and soon a misty dizziness in his head told Fred that he had been struck by something heavier than hands.  There was a booming in his ears and he fell heavily to the road.

The twins were then thoroughly frightened.  Here was a dreadful and unforeseen possibility.

They stood still to consider what was to be done.

“It was you done it, remember,” said Randolph to Reginald.

“But I done it to save you!” cried Reginald, indignantly, “and you can’t prove it was me.  People can’t tell us apart.”

“Anyway,” said Reginald, “everybody will blame it on Rance Belmont if he is killed—­and see here, here’s the jolly part of it.  I’ll leave Rance’s gun right beside him.  That’ll fix the guilt on Rance!”

“Well, we won’t go home; we’ll go back and stay in the shootin’-house at the Slough, and then we can prove we weren’t home at all, and there’ll be no tracks by mornin’, anyway.”

The twins turned around and retraced their steps through the storm, very hungry and very cross, but forgetting these emotions in the presence of a stronger one—­fear.

But Fred was not killed, only stunned by Reginald’s cowardly blow.  The soft flakes melting on his face revived him, and sitting up he looked about him trying to remember where he was.  Slowly it all came to him, and stiff and sore, he got upon his feet.  There were no signs of the twins, but to this Fred gave no thought; his only anxiety was for Evelyn, left alone on such a wild night.

When he entered his own house with Rance Belmont’s words ringing in his ears, he stood for a moment transfixed.  His brother’s words which he had so hotly resented surged over him now with fatal conviction; also the words he had heard at the threshing, “He’ll be the last one to catch on,” came to him like the flash of lightning that burns and uproots and destroys.

His head swam dizzily and lights danced before his eyes.  He stood for a moment without speaking.  He was not sure that it wasn’t all a horrible dream.

If he had looked first at Evelyn, her honest face and flashing eyes would have put his unworthy suspicions to flight.  But Rance Belmont with his fatal magnetic presence drew his gaze.  Rance Belmont stood with downcast eyes, the living incarnation of guilt.  It was all a pose, of course, but Rance Belmont, with his deadly gift of being able to make any impression he wished, made a wonderful success of the part he had all at once decided to play.

Looking at him, Fred’s smouldering jealousy burst into flame.