Warren, with his pistol at full cock in his hand, fell back--dead!
The bullet had entered the brain through the temple.
Donald bent over him, saw that he was dead, and, muttering between his
teeth, "It was either my life or his," walked down the street out of
sight.
Warren lay in a pool of blood, a ghastly spectacle. Some poor mother had
once held this man to her breast, and shed tears of joy or sorrow over
him!
CHAPTER XX.
AFTERWARDS.
The inquest was over. Donald Morrison was found guilty of having slain
Warren. He walked abroad openly. No one attempted to interfere with him.
After the natural horror at the deed had subsided, sympathy went out to
Donald. He had slain a man. True. But it was in self-defence. Had not
Warren been seen pointing the pistol at him? Even admitting that Warren
had no intention to shoot, but only intended to intimidate Donald, how
could the latter know that? Donald had killed a man in the assertion of
the first law of nature--self-preservation.
The people deplored the act. But they did not feel justified in handing
Donald over to justice.
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