A MYSTERIOUS YOUNG MAN.

The baronet leaped to his feet, and stood face to face with his
preserver. The giant trees, towering up until they seemed to pierce
the sky, half shut out the moonlight, but yet Sir Everard could see
that it was a slender stripling who stood before him, a slouched hat
pulled far over his eyes.

"I owe you my life," he cried, grasping the youth's hand. "An instant
later, and I would have been in eternity. How shall I ever thank you?"

"Don't make the attempt," replied the lad, coolly. "It was the merest
chance-work in the world that sent me here to-night."

"Don't call it chance, my boy. It was Providence sent you to save a
life."

"Providence may have wished to save your life, and was not particular
as to the means. Let us look to this fellow. I hope my shot has not
killed him outright."

They both stooped over the fallen giant. Dick Darkly lay on his face,
groaning dismally, the blood pumping from his chest with every breath.

"It's an ugly-looking hole," said Sir Everard. "Two inches lower, and
it would have gone straight through his heart. As it is, it will put a
stop to his assassinating proclivities for awhile, I fancy. Lie still,
you matchless scoundrel, while I try and stop this flow of blood."