age. Begun with too much impulse, and conducted with too little
consideration, the struggle between the military and the outlaws had now
terminated in a manner that left perhaps but little satisfaction in the
minds of either party. The latter, though generally an unlicensed
tribe--an Ishmaelitish race--whose hands were against all men, were not
so sure that they had not been guilty of a crime, not merely against the
laws of man and human society, but against the self-evident decrees and
dictates of God; and with this doubt, at least, if not its conviction,
in their thoughts, their victory, such as it was, afforded a source of
very qualified rejoicing.

CHAPTER XV.

CLOSE QUARTERS.

Colleton was by no means slow in the recognition of the ruffian, and
only wondered at his own dullness of vision in not having made the
discovery before. Nor did Rivers, with all his habitual villany, seem so
well satisfied with his detection. Perceiving himself fully known, a
momentary feeling of inquietude came over him; and though he did not
fear, he began to entertain in his mind that kind of agitation and doubt
which made him, for the first time, apprehensive of the consequences. He
was not the cool villain like Munro--never to be taken by surprise, or
at disadvantage; and his eye was now withdrawn, though but for a moment,
beneath the stern and searching glance which read him through.

That tacit animal confession and acknowledgment were alone sufficient to
madden a temper such as that of Rivers. Easily aroused, his ferocity was
fearless and atrocious, but not measured or methodical. His mind was not
marked--we had almost said tempered--by that wholesome indifference of
mood which, in all matters of prime villany, is probably the most
desirable constituent. He was, as we have seen, a creature of strong
passions, morbid ambition, quick and even habitual excitement; though,
at times, endeavoring to put on that air of sarcastic superiority to all
emotion which marked the character of the ascetic philosopher--a
character to which he had not the slightest claim of resemblance, and
the very affectation of which, whenever he became aroused or irritated,
was completely forgotten. Without referring--as Munro would have done,
and, indeed, as he subsequently did--to the precise events which had
already just taken place and were still in progress about him, and which
made all parties equally obnoxious with himself to human punishment, an