e had come for me to speak up. "State your
business," said I. "What do you want with me?"

"We want you to go with us," replied the short-haired man; "and we'll
get our wants, too."

"Where am I to go?"

"You'll know when you get there," was the answer.

"By which road?" I asked. "I am very careful about the roads I travel."

"We'll look after the roads all right," he replied. "Will you go
peaceable or not?"

"Just for the looks of the thing," I replied, "I'd rather have it said
that I surrendered only after a struggle." Glancing at the three men
the ruffian had brought with him, I was confirmed in my impression that
the affair was by no means to their taste. If they had made a rush all
together it would have been the easiest matter in the world to
overpower me, but somehow they hung back.

"Come on," the man cried to his companions, making as if he would lead
them. They hesitated, and it was then that I gave them my views of the
situation.

"Gentlemen," I said, "I take you for honest, fair-minded men, and I
would advise you to have no hand in this business. This man's orders
are from no competent authority, and I give you fair warning that you
will bitterly regret your part in this night's work if you live through
it."

I could see anxiety, not fear, creep into their faces, and a wholesome
doubt of their leader's good faith. I was satisfied that my words had
taken the edge off their eagerness, and this was all I hoped to do. I
think the ruffian must have felt that his companions were weakening,
for he paused and turned toward them, with his hand under his coat, as
if in the act of drawing a weapon. What he intended to say I never
knew, for, as he turned toward them, still watching me out of the
corner of his evil eye, Whistling Jim was upon him.

Seizing the man in his arms, he whirled him around until he could get
sufficient impetus, and then threw him against the wall as if he had
been fired from a catapult. If you have never witnessed the fury of
genuine fright it is to be hoped you never will, for there is something
hideous about it. The ruffian had hardly hit the wall before the negro
was upon him again, making a noise in his throat like some wild animal,
his face distorted and the muscles of his arms and body standing out as
prominently as if he were covered with huge wens or tumors.

The man had not been so badly stunned by his collision with the wall
but that he could turn over, and by the time th