al, which he understood, and therefore rose and sauntered near the
counter, so that he could be in the rear of the stockman, in case he was
disposed to use violence.

"See," I continued, removing the hat of Mr. Critchet, and throwing back
his collar, "he does not look so very weak, after all."

I noticed the stranger gave a convulsive start when he saw that pale
face, so full of mild reproach; I heard him utter an exclamation which
sounded like an oath, and then he turned and rushed frantically towards
the door; but before he reached it, he was attacked by an enemy in his
rear that he little counted on.

Rover, who had been lying quietly at our feet, watching the movements of
the stranger with distrust, yet apparently determined to give the man a
fair hearing before he made up his mind in regard to his character,
uttered a yell when he saw our visitor turn to fly, and before he
reached the door the faithful dog had seized a portion of his garments
on that section of his body where the strain is supposed to be the
strongest, and, with defiant growls, held him fast.

"Call off your dog," shouted Follet, with an oath, "or I'll send a ball
through his lean carcass."

"If you but offer to lay your hand upon a pistol you are a dead man!"
exclaimed Fred; "remain quiet, and you are safe."

"Why should I obey you?" demanded Follet, with a sudden jerk of his
body, for the purpose of freeing himself from the jaws of the dog, in
which he was unsuccessful, for Rover took a double grip, and I think
that his teeth grazed the forger's flesh, for he attempted to apply his
hands to the spot, but was not able, and therefore they once more sought
the formidable pistols which his pockets contained.

"Curse you and your dog! Do you think I'm a bullock, to be thus dragged
down, and make no resistance?"

He was in the act of cocking the pistol when a slight blow upon his arm,
near the elbow, with the butt of a stock-whip, made him drop it as
suddenly as though his limb had been paralyzed from wrist to shoulder.

"Do you mean to rob or to assassinate me?" cried Follet, rubbing his
arm, and looking dangerous.

"Neither," we replied; "but we require you to be patient, and to make
atonement for some of the wrong that you have done. This you shall do,
or be lodged in a prison and returned to England."

"Do you take me for a child, that I should be thus lectured by boys and
a gray-headed idiot? You don't know me yet!"

The desperate ma