"Alone? Has he gone alone? Oh, won't I give him a dose when he comes
back," thought Capitola.

Meanwhile Old Hurricane stormed along toward Tip-Top, lashing off the
poor dogs that wished to follow him and cutting at every living thing
that crossed his path. His business at the village was to get bills
printed and posted offering an additional reward for the apprehension of
"the marauding outlaw, Black Donald." That day he dined at the village
tavern--"The Antlers," by Mr. Merry--and differed, disputed or
quarrelled, as the case might be, with every man with whom he came in
contact.

Toward evening he set off for home. It was much later than his usual
hour for returning; but he felt weary, exhausted and indisposed to come
into his own dwelling where his furious temper had created so much
unhappiness. Thus, though it was very late, he did not hurry; he almost
hoped that every one might be in bed when he should return. The moon was
shining brightly when he passed the gate and rode up the evergreen
avenue to the horse-block in front of the house. There he dismounted and
walked up into the piazza, where a novel vision met his surprised gaze.

It was Capitola, walking up and down the floor with rapid, almost
masculine strides, and apparently in a state of great excitement.

"Oh, is it you, my little Cap? Good evening, my dear," he said, very
kindly.

Capitola "pulled up" in her striding walk, wheeled around, faced him,
drew up her form, folded her arms, threw back her head, set her teeth
and glared at him.

"What the demon do you mean by that?" cried Old Hurricane.

"Sir!" she exclaimed, bringing down one foot with a sharp stamp; "sir!
how dare you have the impudence to face me? much less the--the--the--the
brass! the bronze! the copper! to speak to me!"

"Why, what in the name of all the lunatics in Bedlam does the girl mean?
Is she crazy?" exclaimed the old man, gazing upon her in astonishment.

Capitola turned and strode furiously up and down the piazza, and then,
stopping suddenly and facing him, with a sharp stamp of her foot
exclaimed:

"Old gentleman! Tell me instantly and without prevarication, where have
you been?"

"To the demon with you! What do you mean? Have you taken leave of your
senses?" demanded Old Hurricane.

Capitola strode up and down the floor a few times, and, stopping short
and shaking her fist, exclaimed:

"Didn't you know, you headstrong, reckless, desperate, frantic
veteran--didn't