upon him. Terrible was now the struggle--the officer had dexterously
struck the knife from his hand as he closed with him, but he could not
draw his pistols. Locked in each other's grasp they wrestled together
for life: each one well knew that death would be the lot of the
vanquished,--the officer burning to revenge his comrade's death:--Hunter
struggling for life and his cherished vengeance. Gradually they
approached the spot where the agent sat watching the conflict with
terrible anxiety, so absorbing as to make him forgetful of the pain of
his wound; here, by a tremendous effort the officer succeeded in
throwing his antagonist; falling, however, with him. Hunter made
desperate efforts to rise, but getting within reach of the agent in the
struggle, Lambert seized his hair, and held his head firmly down; to
master his hands now, and slip a pair of handcuffs over his wrists, was,
to the powerful and practised officer, the work of a moment,--and
furious with passion, but exhausted by the struggle, Hunter lay upon the
earth, a captive.

'A game fellow,' said the officer, wiping the perspiration from his
brow, 'and strong as a bear, but I've tackled as tough hands as him in
my day, and so has poor Bill Maddox there. I hope the Earl will settle a
good pension on his widow--it will be sad news for her and her four poor
children:--stone dead. He took the famous highwayman, Jack Blount summut
in this way, five years ago. Well, he's gone, and as the tide is coming
in, we had best be smart. That shot was unlucky for you, Mr. Lambert,
but such accidents will happen. You behaved beautifully. I'm blowed if I
thought you so fly to these things. Poor Bill--we can't move him until
next tide, but sea-water can't hurt him now. I must rouse this
chuckle-headed yokel and get him to help me.' So saying, the veteran
thief-catcher lighted a dark lantern, and taking some water sprinkled it
freely over the head and face of Curly Tom. The fellow returned to