I heard Abner say, "Dale!" like one who pronounces the name of some extraordinary thing. And I heard Storm say, "Mon dieu! With a teaspoonful of laudanum in him, he walks!"
The creature did not see us; he was listening to the sounds outside, and he started for the door.
"You there," he bellowed, "again! . . . Damn you! . . . Well, I'll get you this time. . . . I'll hunt you to hell!" . . . And his drunken voice rumbled off into obscenities and oaths.
He flung the door open and went out. His weapon thundered, and by it and the drunken shouting, we could track him. He seemed to move north, as though lured that way. We stood and listened.
"He goes toward the river," said Abner. "It is God's will."
Then far off there was a last report of the weapon and a great bellowing cry that shuddered through the forest.
That night over the fire, Storm told us how he had come in from the snow and found Dale drunk and fighting the ghost of Christian Lance; how he listened to his story, and slipped the drug into his glass, and how he got him hidden, when we came, on the promise to keep his secret; and how he had fenced with Abner, seeing that Abner suspected him.
But it was the failure of his drug that vexed him.
"It would put a brigadier and his horse to sleep—that much, if it were pure. I shall take ten drops to-morrow night and see."
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