inted Injun!
What's this for? Some devil's doings ye're arter as ye allers war.
Explain it, Bill! Tell the truth 'ithout preevaricashun. Ef ye lie,
I'll split your thrapple like I wud a water-millyun."

"Sime Woodley! Ned Heywood! Joe Harkness!" gaspingly ejaculates the
man, as in turn the three faces appear before him. "God Almighty!
what's it mean?"

"We'll answer that when we've heern _your_ story. Quick, tell it."

"I can't; your chokin' me. For God's sake, Heywood, take your hand off
my throat. O Sime! sure you don't intend killin' me?--ye won't, ye
won't."

"That depends--"

"But I aint to blame. Afore heaven, I swear I aint. You know that,
Harkness? You heard me protest against their ugly doin's more than
once. In this business, now, I'm only actin' under the captin's order.
He sent me 'long with the lootenant to take care of--"

"The lieutenant!" interrupts Clancy. "What name?"

"Phil Quantrell, we call him; though I guess he's got another--"

"Where is he?" inquires Clancy, tortured with a terrible suspicion.

"He went t'other side the tree, takin' the young lady along."

At that moment comes a cry from behind the oak--a woman's voice calling
"Help! help!"

Clancy stays not to hear more, but rushes off with the air of a man
struck with sudden phrenzy!

On turning the trunk, he sees other forms, a horse with man mounted, a
woman before him he endeavours to restrain, who, struggling, thirsts for
succour.

It is nigh, though near being too late. But for a fortunate
circumstance, it would be. The horse, headed towards the forest, is
urged in that direction. But, frayed by the conflict on his back, he
refuses to advance; instead, jibbing and rearing, he returns under the
tree.

Clancy, with rifle raised, is about to shoot the animal down. But at
thought of danger to her calling "help!" he lowers his piece; and
rushing in, lays hold of the bridle-rein. This instantly let go, to
receive in his arms the woman, released from the ruffian's grasp, who
would otherwise fall heavily to the earth.

The horse, disembarrassed, now obeying the rein, shoots out from under
the oak, and headed across the moonlit belt makes straight for the
timber beyond.

In the struggle Clancy has let go his gun, and now vainly gropes for it
in the darkness. But two others are behind, with barrels that bear upon
the retreating horseman. In an instant all would be over with him, but
for Clancy himself; who