"
"Help! help!" shouted Emily, with the energy of desperation.
"No use, my pretty quadroon; I put your man, Hatchie, into the hands of
two stout fellows; he cannot come, even at your bidding."
The ruffian had hardly finished the sentence before a heavy blow on the
back of the head laid him prostrate upon the floor.
"You are a false prophet," said Hatchie, quietly, as he assisted his
mistress to a sofa, while Jerry Swinger, who had followed him, examined
the condition of the fallen man.
"Thank God!" continued Hatchie, "we have beaten them off."
"Heaven is kinder to me than I deserve," murmured Emily, bursting into
tears, as the terrible scene through which she had just passed was fully
realized. "But where is Henry--Captain Carroll--is he safe?"
"All safe, ma'am; the catamounts have not been in his room," replied
Jerry Swinger. "Cheer up, ma'am; it mought have been worse."
"Let us carry this carrion from the house," said Hatchie, seizing the
prostrate Vernon in no gentle gripe. "Let us fasten him to a tree, and I
will not take my eye from him or the lawyer till both are hung.
Pages:
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331