"Likely story," he muttered to Margaret Bean's husband, and the old man nodded wisely.
"Tell them!" commanded Madelon.

She reached out a hand as if she would shake Lot Gordon into obedience, wounded unto death although he was, but Lot only smiled up in her face.
Then David Hautville bent his stern face down to the sick man's.

"Lot Gordon, tell the truth before God, daughter of mine or no daughter of mine," said he, in his deep voice.

Lot only followed Madelon with his longing, smiling eyes.
"Speak, Lot Gordon!" The wounded man turned his eyes on David and made a feeble motion, scarcely more than a quiver of his hand, which seemed to express negation.
"Can't you speak ?" Again Lot made that faint signal.
"He ain't spoke sence they brought him home," said Margaret Bean--"not a word to the doctor nor nobody." "I couldn't get a word out of him," announced the sheriff, stepping farther into the room.

"In course, there was Burr's knife and Burr himself over him when the others came up, and that was proof enough; but still we kinder thought we'd like to have Lot's word for it afore he died, in case it came to hangin' with Burr; but I guess he's past speakin'.