over the well, and drew forth from it yon huge round slab of stone, which he flung there on the grass as thou seest it.  When his back was thus turned I crept nearer yet.  I would have fired then, but still feared to miss.  Then he bent over thee and lifted thee in his arms.  He could not see me then, he was too much engrossed in his task.  I saw well what he meant to do—­to fling thee bound and helpless into the well, where the lost treasure, methinks from his words, must lie.

“The rest thou knowest.  Coming up close behind, I fired my pistol.  He dropped thee and fell himself, and I feared that he was dead.  Brother, it is something fearful to have killed a man, though it was to save life.  Wilt thou not go to him and see if he yet lives?  We ought to show charity even to our foes.”

Cuthbert was willing enough to do this since he had heard his sister’s story, which had not taken many minutes in the telling.  He went across to the spot where Long Robin lay, and turned him gently over.

Although the sight of death was by no means familiar to Cuthbert, it took only one glance to show him that this man was dying or dead.  His face was ghastly and drawn, and his limbs were already growing rigid and motionless.  The heavy charge of the pistol had done its work surely and fully:  the bullet had passed through the spine, and had entered the vital organs.  There was little effusion of blood, but death was delayed only a few minutes.  Even as Cuthbert looked at him, the man gave a deep groan.  His eyelids flickered a few moments, and then his jaw dropped, a quiver passed through his frame, which then became absolutely still.

Cuthbert shook his head.

“He is dead!” cried Petronella, in a voice of compunction and awe—­“he is dead; and I have killed him!”

She put her hands before her eyes and shivered.  It was something of a terror to her that she should have done this thing.  She shook in every limb.

“I did not mean to kill him—­I never thought of killing him; I only thought of how to save thee, Cuthbert.  O brother, brother, what shall I do?  Will they hang me for it?”

“Never,” cried Cuthbert, throwing his strong arm about her and smiling at her words.  “Sweet Petronella, thou hast naught to fear.  This man has long been an outlaw and a robber.  He has many lives to answer for himself, as well as innumerable acts of violence with robbery.  Even were it not so, thou couldest not be held in any wise guilty by law either of God or man.  May Heaven forgive me if I sin, but I am right glad thy bullet did its work so well.  Our enemy thus removed from our path, the secret of the lost treasure lies with thee and me.  Petronella, I doubt it not for a moment now, that treasure lies at the bottom of the pixies’ well.  My only wonder is that none have thought of this before.”

Petronella pointed to the circular slab lying wet and sparkling in the moonlight upon the sward beside the well.