e had covered him with his revolver, but as he was
preparing to leave the buggy he carelessly lowered it. Luke, who was
aching to attack him, noticed this.

While Fox, for it was one of the notorious brothers, was standing in
careless security, the Quaker sprang upon him like a panther upon his
prey. He knocked the revolver from his hand, with one powerful blow felled
him to the ground, and placed his foot upon his prostrate form.

Never, perhaps, in a career crowded with exciting adventures had the
outlaw been so thoroughly surprised.

"What the mischief does this mean?" he ejaculated, struggling to rise.

"It means that thee has mistaken thy man," answered Luke coolly.

"Let me go or I'll kill you!" shrieked the outlaw fiercely.

"If you try to get up I'll put a bullet through your head," replied Luke,
pointing at him with his own revolver.

In his excitement he had dropped his Quaker speech, and this the outlaw
noted.

"Are you a Quaker?" he asked abruptly.

"No more than you are," answered Luke. "Farmer, bring out the rope."

Ezekiel Mason from the bottom of the buggy produced a long and stout piece
of clothes-line.

"What do you mean to do?" inquired the outlaw uneasily.

"You will see soon enough. No, don't try to get up, as you value your
life. Now tie him, Mason, while I keep him covered with the revolver."

"We've had enough of this," said the outlaw sullenly. "Let me go and I'll
do you no harm."

"I don't mean that you shall, my honest friend."

"But if you persist in this outrage I swear that you will be a dead man
within thirty days."

"Be careful how you talk or you may be a dead man within thirty minutes,"
answered Luke.

While the outlaw was covered by Luke's revolver Farmer Mason, though his
tremulous hands showed that he was nervous, managed to tie him securely.
Fox began to understand the sort of man with whom he was dealing and
remained silent, but his brain was busy trying to devise some method of
escape.

At length the dangerous prisoner was securely tied.

"What shall we do with him?" asked Ezekiel.

"Where's the nearest prison?"

"At Crampton."

"How far away?"

"Twelve miles."

"In what direction?"

"It is four miles beyond Claremont," answered the farmer.

"Where you live?"

"Yes."

"Then we will go there first."

"But how shall we carry--this gentleman?" asked the farmer, who could not
get over a feeling of deference for the celebrated outlaw.

"We'll pu