en negroes
swept between him and his prey. He swerved aside, and, bounding into the
midst of the women, seized the one who chanced to be in his path,--a
young and beautiful girl, newly come over from Plymouth, and a favorite
with the ladies of Verney Manor. The despairing scream which the poor
child uttered rang out above all the tumult. Landless turned, saw, and
darted to her aid--but too late. With one hand the savage gathered up
the loosened hair, with the other he passed the scalping knife around
the young head--when Landless reached them, she who so short time before
had been so fair to see, lay a shocking spectacle, writhing in her death
agony. With white lips and burning eyes Landless swung his gun above his
head, and brought it down upon the shaven crown of Grey Wolf. It cracked
like an egg shell, and the Indian dropped across the body of his victim.

Landless, springing back to the post he had quitted, found Sir Charles
in desperate case, but as coolly composed as ever, and with the air of
the Court still about him despite his bared head and torn and
bloodstained clothing, treating those who came against him to an
exhibition of swordsmanship such as the New World had probably rarely
witnessed. Landless, striking down a cutpurse from Tyburn, saw him run
the Turk through, and saw behind him the nightmare visage and the raised
club of Roach. He uttered a warning cry, but the club descended, and the
handsome, careless face fell backwards, and the slender debonair figure
swayed and fell. Landless caught him, saw that he was but stunned, and
letting him drop to the floor at his feet, wrenched the sword from his
hand, and stood over him, facing Roach with a stern smile.

The murderer raised his club again.

"We've met at last!" he cried with a taunting laugh. "Do you remember
the tobacco house, and what I said? I says: 'Every dog has its day, and
I'll have mine.' It's my day now!"

"And I said," rejoined Landless, "'I let you go now, but one day I will
kill you.' And _that_ day has come."

With an oath Roach brought down the club. Landless swerved, and the blow
fell harmlessly; before the arm could be again raised, he caught it,
held it with a grasp of steel, and shortened his sword. The miscreant
saw his death, and screamed for mercy. "Remember Robert Godwyn!" said
Landless, and drove the blade home.

The sword was a more effective weapon than the gun, and with it he kept
the enemy at bay, while he glanced desp