en that Lindsay fellah raound taown with the darndest big stick y'
ever did see. Looked kind o' savage and wild like. Another one told him
that perhaps he'd better keep a little shady; that are chap that had got
the mittin was praowlin' abaout with a pistil,--one o' them Darringers
abaout as long as your thumb, an' 'll fire a bullet as big as a
potato-ball,--a fellah carries one in his breeches-pocket, an' shoots y'
right threugh his own pahnts, withaout ever takin' on it aout of his
pocket. The stable-keeper, who it may be remembered once exchanged a few
playful words with Mr. Gridley, got a hint from some of these unfeeling
young men, and offered the resources of his stable to the youth supposed
to be in peril.

"I've got a faaest colt, Mr. Hopkins, that'll put twenty mild between you
an' this here village, as quick as any four huffs'll dew it in this here
caounty, if you _should_ want to git away suddin. I've heern tell there
was some lookin' raound here that wouldn't be wholesome to meet,--jest
say the word, Mr. Hopkins, an' I'll have ye on that are colt's back in
less than no time, an' start ye off full jump. There's a good many
that's kind o' worried for fear something might happen to ye, Mr.
Hopkins,--y' see fellahs don't like to have other chaps cuttin' on 'em
aout with their gals."

Gifted Hopkins had become excessively nervous by this time. It is true
that everything in his intimacy with Susan Posey so far might come under
the general head of friendship; but he was conscious that something more
was in both their thoughts. Susan had given him mysterious hints that
her relations with Clement had undergone a change, but had never had
quite courage enough, perhaps had too much delicacy, to reveal the whole
truth.

Gifted was walking home, deeply immersed in thoughts excited by the
hints which had been thus wantonly thrown out to inflame his
imagination, when all at once, on lifting his eyes, he saw Clement
Lindsay coming straight towards him. Gifted was unarmed, except with a
pair of blunt scissors, which he carried habitually in his pocket. What
should he do? Should he fly? But he was never a good runner, being apt
to find himself scant o' breath, like Hamlet, after violent exercise.
His demeanor on the occasion, did credit to his sense of his own
virtuous conduct and his self-possession. He put his hand out, while yet
at a considerable distance, and marched up towards Clement, smiling with
all the native amia