he subject, and go where I will, they talk of nothing else
than hanging the president, the Indians, and all the judges. They are
brushing up their rifles, and they speak out plain."

"The more sport for us--but this is all idle. It will all end in talk,
and whether it do or not, we, at least, have nothing to do with it. But,
there is drink--fill--and let us look to business before either of us
sleep."

The lieutenant did as suggested by Rivers, who, rising from his seat,
continued for some time to pace the apartment, evidently in deep
meditation. He suddenly paused, at length, and resuming his seat,
inquired of Dillon as to the manner in which he had been employed
through the last few days.

A narration, not necessary to repeat, followed from the officer in which
the numerous petty details of frontier irregularity made up the chief
material. Plots and counterplots were rife in his story, and more than
once the outlaw interrupted his officer in the hope of abridging the
petty particulars of some of their attenuated proportions--an aim not
always successful, since, among the numerous virtues of Lieutenant
Dillon, that of precision and niceness in his statements must not be
omitted. To this narration, however, though called for by himself, the
superior yielded but little attention, until he proceed to describe the
adventure of the night, resulting so unsuccessfully, with the emigrating
farmer. When he described the persons of the two strangers, so
unexpectedly lending their aid in defence of the traveller, a new
interest was awakened in the features and mariner of his auditor, who
here suddenly and with energy interrupted him, to make inquiries with
regard to their dress and appearance, which not a little surprised
Dillon, who had frequently experienced the aversion of his superior to
all seemingly unnecessary minutiae. Having been satisfied on these
points, the outlaw rose, and pacing the apartment with slow steps,
seemed to meditate some design which the narrative had suggested.
Suddenly pausing, at length, as if all the necessary lights had shone in
upon his deliberations at once, he turned to Dillon, who stood in silent
waiting, and thus proceeded:--

"I have it," said he, half-musingly, "I have it, Dillon--it must be so.
How far, say you, is it from the place where the man--what's his
name--encamped last night?"

"Nine or ten miles, perhaps, or more."

"And you know his route for to-day?"

"There is now but o