HONOR, pointing to straw and quilt.
Look at that. He's been sleeping there in the night. Well, it'll be a hard case if he's gone off now, the way we'll never set our eyes on a man killed his father, and we after rising early and destroying ourselves running fast on the hill.
NELLY.
Are you thinking them's his boots?
SARA, taking them up.
If they are, there should be his father's track on them. Did you never read in the papers the way murdered men do bleed and drip?
SUSAN.
Is that blood there, Sara Tansey?
SARAH, smelling it.
That's bog water, I'm thinking; but it's his own they are, surely, for I never seen the like of them for whitey mud, and red mud, and turf on them, and the fine sands of the sea. That man's been walking, I'm telling you.
She goes down right, putting on one of his boots.
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