amenting inwardly, with the
self-upbraidings of an agonized spirit, the easy facility with which he
had been won, by the cunning of others, into the perpetration of a crime
so foul. He either for a time heard not or understood not the charges
made by Ralph against his late coadjutor, until brought to his
consciousness by the increased stir among the confederates, who now
rapidly crowded about the spot, in time to hear the denial of the latter
to the accusation, in language and a manner alike fierce and
unqualified.

"Hear me!" was the exclamation of the youth--his voice rising in due
effect, and illustrating well the words he uttered, and the purpose of
his speech:--"I charge this born and branded villain with an attempt
upon my life. He sought to rob and murder me at the Catcheta pass but a
few days ago. Thrown between my horse's feet in the struggle, he
received the brand of his hoof, which he now wears upon his cheek. There
he stands, with the well-deserved mark upon him, and which, but for the
appearance of his accomplices, I should have made of a yet deeper
character. Let him deny it if he can or dare."

The face of Rivers grew alternately pale and purple with passion, and he
struggled in vain, for several minutes, to speak. The words came from
him hoarsely and gratingly. Fortunately for him, Munro, whose cool
villany nothing might well discompose, perceiving the necessity of
speech for him who had none, interfered with the following inquiry,
uttered in something like a tone of surprise.

"And what say you to this accusation, Guy Rivers? Can you not find an
answer?"

"It is false--false as hell! and you know it, Munro, as well as myself.
I never saw the boy until at your house."

"That I know, and why you should take so long to say it I can't
understand. It appears to me, young gentleman," said Munro, with most
cool and delightful effrontery, "that I can set all these matters right.
I can show you to be under a mistake; for I happen to know that, at the
very time of which you speak, we were both of us up in the Chestatee
fork, looking for a runaway slave--you know the fellow, boys--Black
Tom--who has been _out_ for six months and more, and of whom I got
information a few weeks ago. Well, as everybody knows, the Chestatee
fork is at least twenty miles from the Catcheta pass; and if we were in
one place, we could not, I am disposed to think, very well be in
another."

"An _alibi_, clearly established," was th