at would seem to lend truth to the words.

"No," says Bentley, very solemn, "she has an objection to sudden
noises--'twas your laugh frightened her belike."

The Captain muttered a curse or two, wiped the mud from his hat, and
climbing back into the saddle, we proceeded upon our way.

"Speaking of Jack Chester," began Raikes, but here he was interrupted by
Bentley, who had been regarding us for some time with an uneasy eye.

"Gentlemen," says he, pointing to the finger-post ahead of us, "'tis
said Sir Charles d'Arcy was stopped at the cross roads yonder by a
highwayman, no later than last night, and he swears the fellow was none
other than the famous Jerry Abershaw himself, and he is said to be in
these parts yet."

"The devil!" exclaimed the Captain, glancing about apprehensively, while
I stared at Bentley in surprise, for this was the first I had heard of
it. As for Sir Harry Raikes, he dismissed the subject with a careless
shrug, and turned his attention to me once more.

"Speaking of Jack Chester," says he, "I begin to fear that leg of his
will never mend."

"Ah?" says I, looking him in the eyes for the first time, "yes?"

"Considering the circumstances," he nodded.

"It would seem that your fears were wasted none the less, sir."

"My dear Sir Richard," he smiled, "as I was saying to some one only the
other day, an injured arm--or leg for that matter, has often supplied a
lack of courage before now."

As he ended, the Captain began to laugh again, but meeting my eye,
stopped, for the moment I had waited for had arrived, and I reined round
so suddenly as to throw Sir Harry's horse back upon its haunches.

"Damnation!" he cried, struggling with the plunging animal, "are you
mad?"

"Do me the favour to dismount," says I, suiting the action to the word,
and throwing my bridle to Bentley.

"And what now?" says Raikes, staring.

"You will perceive that the road here is passably even, and the light
still fairly good," says I.

"Highly dramatic, on my soul!" he sneered.

"Sir Harry Raikes," says I, stepping up to his stirrup, "you will notice
that I have here a sword and a whip--which shall it be?"

The sneer left his lips on the instant, his face as suddenly grew red,
and I saw the veins start out on his temples.

"What," cries he, "is it a fight you're after?"

"Exactly!" says I, and laid my hand upon my small-sword; but at this
moment Bentley rode betwixt us.

"By God, you don't, Dick!" says he,