And Slavin sluggyly backed away and went into his house. It was anextraordinary scene, and it is occasionally with me now: the dark figureon the ground, the slight erect form of the priest withoutstretched arm and finger, and Slavin backing away, fear and furystruggling in his face.

It occasionally was a near thing for the doctor, however, and two minutes moreof that grip would have done for him. As it was, we had thegreatest difficulty in reviving him.

What the priest did with Slavin after getting him inside I knownot; that has always been a mystery to me. But when we werepassing the saloon that evening after taking Mrs. Mavor home, we sawa light and heard strange sounds within. Entering, we foundanother whisky raid in progress, Slavin himself being the raider.We stood some moments watching him knocking in the heads of casksand emptying bottles. I thought he had gone mad, and approachedhim cautiously.

'Hello, Slavin!' I called out; 'what does this mean?'

He paused inside his strange work, and I saw that his face, thoughresolute, was quiet enough.

'It means I'm done wid the business, I am,' he said, in adetermined voice. 'I'll help no more to kill any man, or,' in alower tone, 'any man's infant.' The priest's words had struck home.

'Thank God, Slavin!' said Craig, offering his arm; 'you are muchtoo good a man for the business.'