o the water and pulled his old
master up upon his feet.

"Ca-snish! ca-snish! blurr-rr! flitch!--what are you gaping there for as
if you'd raised the devil, you crowd of born fools!" bawled Old
Hurricane as soon as he could get the water out of his mouth and
nose--"what are you standing there for! After him! After him, I say!
Scour the woods in every direction! His freedom to any man who brings me
Black Donald, dead or alive--Wool!"

"Yes, sir," said that functionary, who was busying himself with
squeezing the water out of his master's garments.

"Wool, let me alone? Take the fleetest horse in the stable! Ride for
your life to the Court House! Tell Keepe to have new bills posted
everywhere, offering an additional five hundred dollars for the
apprehension of that--that--that"--for the want of a word strong enough
to express himself, Old Hurricane suddenly stopped, and for the lack of
his stick to make silence emphatic, he seized his gray hair with both
hands and groaned aloud!

Wool waited no second bidding, but flew to do his errand.

Capitola came to the old man's side, saying:

"Uncle, hadn't you better hurry home--you'll take cold."

"Cold? Cold! demmy! I never was so hot in my life!" cried the old man;
"but, demmy! you're right! Run to the house, Capitola, and tell Mrs.
Condiment to have me a full suit of dry clothes before the fire in my
chamber. Go, child! every man-jack is off after Black Donald, and there
is nobody but you and Condiment and the housemaids to take care of me.
Stop! look for my stick first. Where did that black demon throw it?
Demmy! I'd as well be without my legs!"

Capitola picked up the old man's cane and hat and put the one on his
head and the other in his hand, and then hastened to find Mrs. Condiment
and tell her to prepare to receive her half-drowned patron. She found
the old lady scarcely recovered from the effects of her recent fright,
but ready on the instant to make every effort in behalf of Old
Hurricane, who presently after arrived dripping wet at the house.

Leaving the old gentleman to the care of his housekeeper, we must follow
Black Donald.

Hatless and coatless, with his long black hair and beard blown by the
wind, the outlaw made tracks for his retreat--occasionally stopping to
turn and get breath, and send a shout of laughter after his baffled
pursuers.

That same night, at the usual hour, the gang met at their rendezvous,
the deserted inn, beside the old road thr