to our hero, in a smooth, even whisper. 'It is surpriseen he didn't
stab you.'

Nancy was engaged making for herself a wincy gown; the hag was
sewing buttons upon a pair of breeches belonging to one of the
highwaymen, and Silent Poll was kneading dough.

'I do not regard it as surprising,' our hero replied.

'My, but that's strange,' quoth The Lifter.

'Two can play at a game of that sort; I do not relish an encounter,
but whoever gets my life will have to strive for it. But that is of
little consequence. What is on now?'

'If you will just remain standeen where you are and keep your eyes
open you will see.'

Presently our hero saw a strange head rise from the cavern; and then
the entire figure appeared. The disguise was most complete, and the
robber, whichever one he was, held a buck-saw in his hand.

'Off buckeen,' whispered The Lifter. The fellow wore a very ragged
coat, and corresponding breeches; but our hero could not remember
having seen him before. He stood close to the mouth of the pit
looking first at Nancy, and then upon Roland. The jealous glare
setted the point in our hero's mind. The disguised ruffian was
Murfrey. The next moment out popped a sleek, respectable looking
personage, carrying a Bible under his arm, and a walking stick in his
hand. He was dressed like a dissenting clergyman, wearing at his