human
September 1st. The deed is done. Lost in the skurry of a midnight sortie. 'Killed in battle,' his men will say; but--Thoms knows better! He tracked him with his long sleuth-hound through the swamps, and the surging morass, and the long, hot highway, the spikey groves, the dark fens, and through hunger and danger of death; and he found him! Why not keep his promise? He stole his history, habits, phrases, manners, friends; and now, the lesson being learned, Thoms may keep his promise, made to himself. He stooped this moonlit night upon the battle-field, and stole his master's life, and stood erect--not _Thoms, the ignoble valet, but St. Udo, the heir of Castle Brand_!