Unibus plurum."--Brown.

Two hours later. Return we again to the Banditti's Cave.
Revelry still holds high carnival among the able and efficient
bandits. A knock is heard at the door. From his throne at the
head of the table the Chief cries, "Come in!" and an old man,
haggard, white-haired, and sadly bent, enters the cave.

"Messieurs," he tremblingly ejaculates, "for seventeen years I
have not tasted of food!"

"Well," says a kind-hearted bandit, "if that's so I expect you
must be rather faint. We'll get you up a warm meal immediately,
stranger."

"Hold!" whispered the Chief in tones of thunder, and rushing
slowly to the spot; "this is about played out. Behold in me RED
HAND, the Bandit Chief, once Clarence Stanley, whom you cruelly
turned into a cold world seventeen years ago this very night!
Old man, perpare to go up!" Saying which the Chief drew a sharp
carving knife and cut off Mr. Blinker's ears. He then scalped
Mr. B., and cut all of his toes off. The old man struggled to
extricate himself from his unpleasant situation, but was
unsuccessful.

"My goodness," he piteously exclaimed, "I must say you are pretty
rough. It seems to me--."

This is all of this intensely interesting tale that will be
published in the "Plain Dealer." The remainder of it may be