ng Stuart was fleet as the
antelope, and strong as a young lion. In these circumstances it is not
surprising that, after a run of less than a quarter of a mile, he
succeeded in laying his hands on the neck of the savage and hurling him
to the ground, where he lay panting and helpless, looking up in the face
of his conqueror with an expression of hopeless despair--for savages and
wicked men generally are wont to judge of others by themselves, and to
expect to receive such treatment from their enemies as they themselves
would in similar circumstances accord.

The fear of instant death was before his eyes, and the teeth of Keona
chattered in his head, while his face grew more hideous than ever, by
reason of its becoming livid.

His fears were groundless. Henry Stuart was not a savage. He was
humane by nature; and, in addition to this, he had been trained under
the influence of that Book which teaches us that the most philosophical,
because the most effective, method of procedure in this world, is to
"overcome evil with good."

"So, you scoundrel," said Henry, placing his knee on Keona's chest, and
compressing his throat with his left hand, while, with his right, he
drew forth a long glittering knife, and raised it in the air--"So you
are not satisfied with what I gave you the last time we met, but you
must needs take the trouble to cross my path a second time, and get a
taste of cold steel, must you?"

Although Keona could speak no English, he understood it sufficiently to
appreciate the drift of the youth's words, even though he had failed to
comprehend the meaning of the angry frown and the glittering knife.
But, however much he might have wished to reply to the question, Henry
took care to render the attempt impossible, by compressing his windpipe
until he became blue in the face, and then black. At the same time, he
let the sharp point of his knife touch the skin just over the region of
the heart. Having thus convinced his vanquished foe that death was at
the door, he suddenly relaxed his iron gripe; arose, sheathed his knife,
and bade the savage get up.

The miserable creature did so, with some difficulty, just as the captain
and his men arrived on the scene.

"Well met, Henry," cried the former, extending his hand to the youth,
"had I been a moment later, my lads I fear that your life's blood would
have been on the sea shore."

"Then it was you who fired the shot, Captain Gascoyne? This is the
second t