II.

A BOUGH WALK ENLIVENED BY RAMBLING TALK--BUMPUS IS "AGREEABLE."

It is said, in the proverbial philosophy of nautical men, that "a stern
chase is a long one." The present instance was an exception to the
general rule. Keona was wounded. Young Stuart was fleet as the antelope,
and strong as a young lion. In these circumstances it is not surprising
that, after a run of less than a quarter of a mile, he succeeded in
laying his hands on the neck of the savage and hurling him to the
ground, where he lay panting and helpless, looking up in the face of his
conqueror with an expression of hopeless despair; for savages and wicked
men generally are wont to judge of others by themselves, and to expect
to receive such treatment from their enemies as they themselves would in
similar circumstances accord.

The fear of instant death was before his eyes, and the teeth of Keona
chattered in his head, while his face grew more hideous than ever, by
reason of its becoming livid.

His fears were groundless. Henry Stuart was not a savage. He was humane
by nature; and, in addition to this, he had been trained under the
influence of that Book which teaches us that the most philosophical,
because the most effective, method of procedure in this world is to
"overcome evil with good."

"So you scoundrel," said Henry, placing his knee on Keona's chest, and
compressing his throat with his left hand, while with his right he drew
forth a long glittering knife, and raised it in the air,--"so you are
not satisfied with what I gave you the last time we met, but you must
need take the trouble to cross my path a second time, and get a taste of
cold steel, must you?"

Although Keona could speak no English, he understood it sufficiently to
appreciate the drift of the youth's words, even though he had failed to
comprehend the meaning of the angry frown and the glittering knife. But,
however much, he might have wished to reply to the question, Henry took
care to render the attempt impossible, by compressing his windpipe until
he became blue in the face, and then black. At the same time, he let the
sharp point of his knife touch the skin just over the region of the
heart.

Having thus convinced his vanquished foe that death was at the door, he
suddenly relaxed his iron grip, arose, sheathed his knife, and bade the
savage get up. The miserable creature did so, with some difficulty, just
as the captain and his men arrived on the scene.

"Well met