were clearly to be seen—­large, frightened, fierce eyes, that met his own with a courage and terror in them which seemed to quell his own courage and impart terror to him.  Above them he saw the form of a pallid brow clearly moulded.  He did not remember the rest of the face—­perhaps the white clothes wrapped it around.  While the eyes struck him with awe, he had a curious idea that the thing had been interrupted in arranging its own winding sheet, and was waiting until he retired again to finish its toilet.  This was merely a grotesque side-current of thought.  He was held and awed by the surprise of the face, for those eyes seemed to him to belong to no earthly part of the old man who, he had been told, lay there dead.  Drawn by death or exhaustion as the face around them looked, the eyes themselves appeared unearthly in their large brightness.

He never knew whether his next action was urged more by fear, or by the strong sense of justice that had first prompted him to call back the carter as the proper person to deal with the contents of the coffin.  Whatever the motive, it acted quickly.  He drew back; closed the door; locked it on the side of his own room; and set out again to bring back the man.  This time he should hear and should return.  Trenholme did not spare his voice, and the wide lonely land resounded to his shout.  And this time he was not too proud to run, but went at full speed and shouted too.

Saul undoubtedly saw and heard him, for he faced about and looked.  Perhaps something in the very way in which Trenholme ran suggested why he ran.  Instead of responding to the command to return, he himself began to run away and madly to goad his oxen.  There are those who suppose oxen yoked to a cart cannot run, but on occasion they can plunge into a wild heavy gallop that man is powerless to curb.  The great strength latent in these animals was apparent now, for, after their long day’s draught, they seemed to become imbued with their driver’s panic, and changed from walking to dashing madly down the road.  It was a long straight incline of three miles from the station to the settlement called Turrifs.  Saul, unable to keep up with the cattle, flung himself upon the cart, and, with great rattling, was borne swiftly away from his pursuer.  Young Trenholme stopped when he had run a mile.  So far he had gone, determined that, if the man would not stop for his commands, he should be collared and dragged back by main force to face the thing which he had brought, but by degrees even the angry young man perceived the futility of chasing mad cattle.  He drew up panting, and, turning, walked back once more.  He did not walk slowly; he was in no frame to loiter and his run had brought such a flush of heat upon him that it would have been madness to linger in the bitter cold.  At the same time, while his legs moved rapidly, his mind certainly hesitated—­in fact, it almost halted, unable to foresee in the least what its next opinion or decision would be.  He