"I'd like ter see the hoss on this place that could ketch the
lieutenant's black mare. Oh, why didn't I shoot the nigger?" and the
soldier strode up and down as if demented.

"You deserve to be shot yourself, sir, if you, who had been placed
on guard, permitted that black rascal to take the horses."

"Yes," replied the soldier, desperately, "en the lieutenant is ther
man ter shoot me--cuss his red-hot blood!" and he stalked away
toward the stables as if possessed by a sudden resolve.

Turning to enter the house, Mr. Baron encountered his niece, who had
been a witness to the scene, which explained everything to her. "You
see, you see," cried the old man, "everything going to rack and
ruin! Would to Heaven you could be married to-night and sent away to
a place of safety!"

"Uncle," said the girl, almost fiercely, "did you not hear that man
say of my cousin, 'curse his red-hot blood'? Is that the kind of a
protector you would force upon me?"

"Yes," almost shouted the angry man, "because he has the spirit to
deal justly with such reprobates. He's just the kind of protector
you need in these lurid times, when it seems as if no one could be
trusted. To think that that boy Chunk, who has been treated so well,
could play us such an infernal trick! His old crone of a grandam
must know something about it, and I'll make her tell. Perkins!" and
Mr. Baron rushed toward the door again.

The ladies had now descended and joined the excited group on the