He deliberately thrust his club under Black Jack's body, and, raising him, rested it on his knee.

He pulled a long silver pin from the front of the dead man's shirt and sent it spinning into the swale.

Then he gathered up a few crumpled bright flowers and dropped them into the pool far away.
"My soul is sick with the horror of this thing," said McLean, as he and Freckles drove toward town.

"I can't understand how Jack dared risk creeping through the swale, even in desperation.

No one knew its dangers better than he.