"My grandaddy used to live down Coppington wy," said Tippet. "They were a hold ruined castle on a 'ill near by, hand at midnight they used to see pale blue lights through the windows an 'ear--"
It seemed to Bradley that he had scarcely closed his eyes when he was brought to his feet, wide awake, by a piercing scream which was punctuated by the sharp report of a rifle from the direction of the fire where Tippet stood guard.
"Can't waste ammunition." Then he walked quickly to where Tippet lay sprawled upon his face.
Bradley turned Tippet over on his back and pressed an ear close to the other's heart.
"Wot 'appened, sir!" wailed Tippet. "Oh, Gord, sir!
Tippet said that he did--a much better look than he wanted.
"Hit was Death," moaned Tippet, shuddering, and again a pall of gloom fell upon the little party.
The following day Tippet walked as one in a trance.
This was a new menace that threatened them, something that they couldn't explain; and so, naturally, it aroused within them superstitious fear which Tippet's attitude only tended to augment.
"Scatter!" shouted Bradley to those behind him; and all but Tippet heeded the warning.
Bradley, the moment he had discovered the thing was pursuing Tippet, had followed it.
Tippet was beyond succor--why waste a bullet that Caspak could never replace?