Old
Hurricane, going to the door and speaking to his housekeeper, who, with
an appalled countenance had been a silent spectator of all that had
passed.

As soon as the old woman had gone to do her errand he turned again, and
stooping down the hole, exclaimed:

"I say, you scoundrel down there! What do you think of yourself now?
Are you much hurt, you knave? Is everyone of your bones broken, as they
deserve to be, you villain? Answer me, you varlet!"

A low, deep moan was the only response.

"If that means yes, I'm glad to hear it, you wretch. You'll go to the
camp-meeting with us again, won't you, you knave? You'll preach against
evil passions and profane swearing, looking right straight at me all
the time, until you bring the eyes of the whole congregation upon me as
a sinner above all sinners, you scoundrel? You'll turn me out of my own
bed and away from my own board, won't you, you villain? Won't you,
precious Father Grey? Oh, we'll Father Grey you! Demmy, the next time a
trap-door falls under you, you rascal, there shall be a rope around
your neck to keep you from the ground, precious Father Grey!"

"Uncle! Uncle! that is cowardly!" exclaimed Capitola.

"What is cowardly, Miss Impertinence?"

"To insult and abuse a fallen man who is in your power! The poor man is
badly hurt, may be dying, for aught you know, and you stand over him
and berate him when he cannot even answer you!"

"Umph, umph, umph; Demmy, you're--umph, well, he is fallen, fallen
pretty badly, eh? and if he should come round after this, the next fall
he gets will be likely to break his neck, eh?--I say, you gentleman
below there--Mr. Black Donald--precious Father Grey--you'll keep quiet,
won't you, while we go and get our breakfast? do, now! Come, Cap, come
down and pour out my coffee, and by the time we get through, Old Ezy
will be here."

Capitola complied, and they left the room together.

The overseer came in while they were at breakfast, and with his hair
standing on end, listened to the account of the capture of the outlaw
by our heroine.

"And now saddle Fleetfoot and ride for your life to Tip-Top and bring a
pair of constables," were the last orders of Old Hurricane.

While Mr. Ezy was gone on his errand, Major Warfield, Capitola and Mrs.
Condiment remained below stairs.

It was several hours before the messenger returned with the constables,
and with several neighbors whom interest and curiosity had instigated
to join the par