our o'clock. It was now half-past three. Putting up his
horse at the hotel, the lawyer partook of a hasty meal at a restaurant,
and returned in time to meet Bangs on the very threshold. "Whet ere you
doing here, Lawyer Coristine?" he asked.

"You will never guess, Mr. Bangs."

"Any more trebble et Bridesdele?"

"No, but I'll tell you; we've caught Rawdon."

"Why, the men's dead, berned to a cinder, you know."

"No, he is not; that was some other man."

"Ere you shore, Mr. Coristine?"

"Perfectly. Mr. Terry and Timotheus are bringing him here now."

"Whet, only the two of them, and kemming pest the Beaver too?"

"Yes; there were no more to send. I warned Pierre Lajeunesse to be on
the lookout."

"Is your beast fit to trevel eny more?"

"I think so; it seems a strong animal."

"Then get on hersebeck quick! Here, kensteble, hend me two betons, and a
kerbine!"

When the lawyer returned with his hard-ridden steed, he found Mr. Bangs
mounted, with a baton by his side and a carbine slung behind him. Off
they went along the shore and up the hill. Descending, they saw the
buggy approaching slowly in the neighbourhood of the Hills' log shanty,
attended by four persons who seemed to be armed. Hastening down the
slope, they came up to it, and found the prisoner safe but awfully
profane. The foot guards were Ben Toner, Barney Sullivan, and Rufus
Hill, under the command of Monsieur Lajeunesse. They were relieved of
their self-imposed duty with many thanks, and Coristine shook hands with
the honest fellows, as he and the detective replaced them in escort
duty. Then Timotheus whipped up his horse, and they drove and rode into
town, an imposing spectacle for the eyes of the youth of Collingwood.

Bangs could hardly believe his eyes, and could not conceal his delight,
on beholding the murderer of his now buried friend. No pains were spared
for the safe-keeping of the notorious criminal. In the presence of a
magistrate, Coristine and Mr. Terry made affidavit as to his crimes and
capture. The latter and Timotheus also related his attempts to bribe
them into giving him his liberty, offering large sums and promising to
leave the country. "Now, Mishter Corstine," says the veteran, "it's
hoigh toime we was gettin' home. The good payple 'ull be gettin' onaisy
about yeez, 'an spashly Miss Carrmoichael that was gravin' sore to think
she niver said good-boye to yeez. Come, now, come away, an' lave the
baste in the shtable, for it'