efore, and I instinctively
drew back.

'Ha!' he said, and urging his horse forward, he bent down and touched
the young convict on the shoulder with his whip. 'Ha! look up, fellow. I
want a word with you, sirrah.'

Trenfield, who was stooping at the moment, stood erect, and then, facing
the parson, again raised his hand to his cap. His face was deadly pale,
and his deep-set bright blue eyes seemed to have suddenly shrunken and
drawn back, and his whole body was trembling.

'Look at me, fellow,' said Mr Sampson, for the second time.

_'I am looking at you, sir._'

The words came from between his white lips and set teeth in a low,
hoarse whisper, and all the hatred in his heart seemed to go with them.
The clergyman eyed him for a few seconds in silence, but the convict met
his gaze unfalteringly.

'So 'tis to you, you scoundrel, that your ruffianly fellow-criminals
are indebted for so much amusement at my expense! Tell me, you villain,
where you got that picture, and who prompted you to display it? Answer
me quickly, you unhanged rascal!'

Trenfield's lips moved, but ere he could speak, my eldest brother
stepped forward, bravely enough.

'Indeed, sir, Trenfield had nothing to do with the picture. It was given
to me, but by some mischance was lost or stolen. I am sure, sir, that
Trenfield would not--'

'Trenfield is a villain. How dare you, presumptuous boy, seek to excuse
him! A good birching, for which you are not too old, would teach you
that reverence and respect for a clergyman which your mother has so
forgotten.'

Harry fired up quickly enough at the insulting words.

'How dare you, sir, speak to me in this fashion? My father shall hear of
this.'

'Let _me_ deal with him, the bloody-minded dog!' said a voice.

It was that of Walter Trenfield, who, springing forward, presented my
brother's loaded fowling-piece at the minister's head. 'Listen to me,
you beast in human form, you heartless fiend! I am going to send your
poisonous soul to hell.'

He pulled the trigger, but the gun missed fire; then swiftly clubbing
the weapon he brought it with terrific force against the clergyman's
chest and knocked him off the horse. The orderly at once turned, and
fled as his master fell.

The Reverend Mr Sampson lay prone upon the sward, his once red face
blanched to a deathly white, and over him, with grounded gun, stood the
young convict.

My brother tried to take the weapon from him, but Trenfield tossed him
a