Chapter 18

           Alanwasthefirsttocomeround.Herose,wenttotheborderofthewood,peeredoutalittle,andthenreturnedandsatdown.

           “Well,”saidhe,“yonwasahotburst,David.”

           Isaidnothing,norsomuchasliftedmyface.Ihadseenmurderdone,andagreat,ruddy,jovialgentlemanstruckoutoflifeinamoment;thepityofthatsightwasstillsorewithinme,andyetthatwasbutapartofmyconcern.HerewasmurderdoneuponthemanAlanhated;herewasAlanskulkinginthetreesandrunningfromthetroops;andwhetherhiswasthehandthatfiredoronlytheheadthatordered,signifiedbutlittle.Bymywayofit,myonlyfriendinthatwildcountrywasblood-guiltyinthefirstdegree;Iheldhiminhorror;Icouldnotlookuponhisface;Iwouldhaveratherlainaloneintherainonmycoldisle,thaninthatwarmwoodbesideamurderer.

           “Areyestillwearied?”heaskedagain.

           “No,”saidI,stillwithmyfaceinthebracken;“no,Iamnotweariednow,andIcanspeak.Youandmemusttwine,”Isaid.“Ilikedyouverywell,Alan,butyourwaysarenotmine,andthey’renotGod’s:andtheshortandthelongofitisjustthatwemusttwine.”

           “Iwillhardlytwinefromye,David,withoutsomekindofreasonforthesame,”saidAlan,mightygravely.“Ifyekenanythingagainstmyreputation,it’stheleastthingthatyeshoulddo,foroldacquaintance’sake,toletmehearthenameofit;andifyehaveonlytakenadistastetomysociety,itwillbeproperformetojudgeifI’minsulted.