ou and I have no quarrel."

"A purty question, ye murtherin' haythen! I'll settle with yees, if
yees only come down here like a man. Jist play the wolf and belave me
a sheep, and come down here for your supper."

[Illustration: "A purty question, ye murtherin haythen!"]

"My quarrel is not with you, I tell you, but with your psalm-singing
_master_--"

"And ain't that _meself_?" interrupted Teddy. "What's mine is his, and
what's his is mine, and what's me is both, and what's both is me,
barring neither one is my own, but all belong to Master Harvey, and
Miss Cora, God bless their souls. Don't talk of quarreling wid _him_
and being friendly to _me_, ye murtherin' spalpeen! Jist come down
here a bit, I say, if ye's got a spick of honor in yer rusty shirt."

"My ill-will is not toward you, although, I repeat, if you step in my
way you may find it a dangerous matter. You think I tried to shoot
you, but you are mistaken. Do you suppose I could have come as near
and _missed_ without doing so on _purpose_? To-night I could have
brought you and your master, or his wife, and sent you all out of the
world in a twinkling. I've roamed the woods too long to miscarry at a
dozen yards."

Teddy began to realize that the man told the truth, yet it cannot be
said that his anger was abated, although a strong curiosity mingled
with it.

"And what's yer raison for acting in that shtyle, to as good a man as
iver asked God's blessing on a sunny morning, and who wouldn't tread
on one of yer corns, that is, if yer big feet isn't all corns, like a
toad's back, as I suspict, from the manner in which ye leaps over the
ground."

"_He_ knows who I am, and he knows he has given me good cause to
remind him of my existence. _He_ can tell you, if he chooses; I shall
not. But let yourself and him take warning from what you already
know."

"And be the same token, let yourself be taking warning. As sure as
I'm the ninth son of the seventh mother, I'll--"

The hunter was gone!

CHAPTER II.

THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT.

The echoing rock, the rushing flood,
The cataract's swell, the moaning wood;
The undefined and mingled hums--
Voice of the desert never dumb!
All these have left within this heart
A feeling tongue can ne'er impart;
A wildered and unearthly flame,
A something that's without a name.--ETTRICK SHEPHERD.

With extreme difficulty, Teddy made his way out of the ravine into
which purposely he had been le