ang after him.

Fortunately, having just emptied their guns, they could not prevent the
fugitive from crossing the bridge, but they reached it before there was
time to draw in the plank, and were about to follow, when Tolly Trevor
planted himself in front of them with a double-barrelled horse-pistol in
each band.

"We don't want _you_ here, you--red-faced--baboons!" he cried, pausing
between each of the last three words to discharge a shot and emphasising
the last word with one of the pistols, which he hurled with such
precision that it took full effect on the bridge of the nearest red
man's nose. All three fell, but rose again with a united screech and
fled back to the bushes.

A few moments more and the bridge was drawn back, and Paul Bevan was
borne into the hut, amid a scattering fire from the assailants, which,
however, did no damage.

To the surprise and consternation of Tolly, who entered first, Betty was
found sitting on a chair with blood trickling from her left arm. A ball
entering through the window had grazed her, and she sank down, partly
from the shock, coupled with alarm. She recovered, however, on seeing
her father carried in, sprang up, and ran to him.

"Only stunned, Betty," said Tom; "will be all right soon, but we must
rouse him, for the scoundrels will be upon us in a minute. What--what's
this--wounded?"

"Only a scratch. Don't mind me. Father! dear father--rouse up! They
will be here--oh! rouse up, dear father!"

But Betty shook him in vain.

"Out o' the way, _I_ know how to stir him up," said Tolly, coming
forward with a pail of water and sending the contents violently into his
friend's face--thus drenching him from head to foot.

The result was that Paul Bevan sneezed, and, sitting up, looked
astonished.

"Ha! I thought that 'ud fetch you," said the boy, with a grin. "Come,
you'd better look alive if you don't want to lose yer scalp."

"Ho! ho!" exclaimed Bevan, rising with a sudden look of intelligence and
staggering to the door, "here, give me the old sword, Betty, and the
blunderbuss. Now then."

He went out at the door, and Tom Brixton was following, when the girl
stopped him.

"Oh! Mr Brixton," she said, "do not _kill_ any one, if you can help
it."

"I won't if I can help it. But listen, Betty," said the youth,
hurriedly seizing the girl's hand. "I have tried hard to speak with you
alone to-day, to tell you that I am _guilty_, and to say good-bye _for
ever_."