On the appointed night, the two ruffians, Bill and Dick, repaired to the
"dark passage," according to arrangement, and with daggers and pistols (the
latter only to be used in case of necessity, as the report of firearms
might lead to detection,) awaited the arrival of their victim. About nine
o'clock, the sound of horses' feet, approaching at a rapid gait, gave them
to understand the hour of their deadly work was at hand. Taking their
stand, one on either side of the road, they silently awaited the horseman's
coming.

It was a dismal place, a low, wet valley, densely shaded and overgrown by
trees, whose thick foliage scarcely admitted a single sunbeam to penetrate
to the earth beneath. This gloomy passage was about half a mile in extent,
and at its dark center the villains had posted themselves. Their plans were
all fully matured, even down to the minute details. They were both to
spring out and seize the horse by the bridle; then, while Bill held the
animal, Dick was to strike the fatal blow to the heart of the rider. Not a
word was to be spoken. As the man entered the passage, his pace was
slackened, and he kept his eye about him, as if in fear of an attack. When
within about a hundred yards of the concealed assassins, Bill whispered to
his companion across the road:

"Now, Dick, make sure work of it; let the first blow tell the tale, while
it silences his tongue!"

"Never fear for me; take care of your own part, and I'll do the same by
mine," was Dick's reply.

In a few seconds, the horseman came abreast of the ambuscaders, both of
whom sprang out at the same moment, and seizing the bridle-reins, checked
the horse so suddenly as to throw him back on his haunches, to the imminent