"See, here are pick
and spade, that a brother of mine may sleep in the bosom of the
earth!"
The moon broke from behind a mass of clouds, and the eye of the woman
was enabled to follow the finger of Ishmael. It pointed to a human
form swinging in the wind, beneath the ragged and shining arm of the
willow. Esther bent her head and veiled her eyes from the sight. But
Ishmael drew nigher, and long contemplated his work in awe, though not
in compunction. The leaves of the sacred book were scattered on the
ground, and even a fragment of the shelf had been displaced by the
kidnapper in his agony. But all was now in the stillness of death. The
grim and convulsed countenance of the victim was at times brought full
into the light of the moon, and again as the wind lulled, the fatal
rope drew a dark line across its bright disk. The squatter raised his
rifle, with extreme care, and fired. The cord was cut and the body
came lumbering to the earth a heavy and insensible mass.
Until now Esther had not moved nor spoken.
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