when the lovers of peace and order might gracefully
retire.

Two or three Friends could be seen slipping
away, like rabbits to their burrows, and even
the "Tip us a stave, Jehoshaphat!" addressed
to one of them, as he trundled off, failed to
arrest that gentleman's flight. Lopré had passed
on his way, and there remained only two or three
rough fellows who were accustomed, so long
as their means permitted, to share the
potations of the convivial Small.

Ninian continued to drink and roar, but
evinced a less social disposition than usual, and
finally staggered away, forbidding his friends
to follow. But, first, leaning — or, rather, falling
—against the shoulder of the nearest, he
managed to blurt out the question:

"Where do 'e live?"

"Who live?" inquired his friend.

"Pale face — gellyman——" explained Mr.
Small.

The other informed him, adding, however, that
the party in question was, probably, at this
moment, in accordance with his well-known habit,
rambling in the woods.

Mr. Small thrust his friend from him,
playfully indeed, but so forcibly, that the latter
reeled some paces and fell, being asked, at the
same time, what the something he meant by
leaning upon him, Small? This done, Ninian
tacked away in the direction of the woods. As
he went, his muddled brain wrestled with a little
sum.

"Fifty guineas — and t-twenty pounds is—
s-sev-enty pou — nef' mind th'od shill — and
fipounmore make hundern — I must have it
all — all — Stay, where's 'Scripsion"? But
he had blundered into the wood-path, and could
no longer see at all.

Lopré had not taken his accustomed way.
He had gone slowly home. At the gate he
found Dorcas, with a pale and anxious expression
on her usually composed features, watching
and listening. The poor woman did not
attempt to conceal her uneasiness. Little
Ruth, who was in the habit of going twice a
week to a farm-house, nearly a mile distant,
across an angle of the wood, Ruth, who should
have returned two hours since, had not made
her appearance.

While she was yet speaking, the disturbance
made by the brawling tinker reached their
ears; and a neighbour, who passed, told Dorcas
that the ruffian had reeled away, mad with
drink, towards the woods.

The mother turned whiter yet — and made a
faint step in the direction indicated.

"He is a savage creature, in these seasons
of drink," she said; "he might not even
respect my innocent. I'll —— "

Lopré touched her arm.

"Have no fear. I will seek her," he said, and
strode away.

"Thee wilt be careful of theeself, too," cried
Dorcas, after him. "Strive not, if thou canst
help it, lest he prove stronger than thou."

Lopré turned his face in acknowledgment of
this discreet counsel; but his short hollow
laugh was the only reply.

Ruth, fearless little messenger, had been
delayed far beyond her usual time, but, nevertheless,
refused all escort, and was already half
through the darker portion of her way, when
she became conscious of the approach of the
drunken giant, who, swaying about his mighty
arms, and roaring fragments of a ribald song,
appeared to be seeking an outlet from the wood.
Suddenly, as if abandoning the effort, he flung
himself down at the side of the path.

Ruth hoped he would go to sleep.

"Then," she thought, "I can slip by."

After a pause of some minutes, the attempt
was made. But, unhappily, Mr. Small was not
only awake, but active. If Ruth had walked
coolly past, it is possible he might not have
molested her; but the manifest purpose of
escape acted as an incentive. He made a
swoop at the little flitting figure, and clutched
her dress. Ruth shrieked, for she had an
intense dislike and dread of the man.

"Stop your something screeching, you
something'd little something!" growled Small,
tossing her from one arm to the other, as though
she were a doll. "Kiss me, or I'll drown ye
in the ditch! What, scratch me, will ye?"
bellowed the infuriated ruffian; " then, here
goes —— "

He lifted her high in the air, with what fell
purpose who can say? for at that instant the
child uttered another cry.

"Ah! Augustus! Dost thou see?"

A hand of steel was twisted in his neckerchief.
Another hand caught Ruth as she fell,
for the arms and knees of the drunken man
relaxed, and, after a second's struggle, his
ponderous frame remained an inert mass in his
assailant's grasp.

Poor Ruth was smoothing her ruffled
plumes:

"I thank thee. The Lord bless thee,
Augustus! But oh, Augustus, he is choking!
Loose thy hand. Thou must not not slay the
violent uncouth man."

"Quick, then, child — bring water. There's
some in the ditch behind us," cried Lopré,
impatiently.

But the merciless gripe did not relax — no,
not while Lopré's other hand searched the
wretch's pocket, and drew out the printed
"Description" — until Ruth, with her
handkerchief saturated like a sponge with water,
ran back to his side. Together they untied his
neckcloth, threw open the rugged chest, and
sprinkled water on the face and head; but one
of them knew full well that ocean itself, and a
college of doctors to boot, could not restore one
gasp to Ninian Small.

"It is drink, not I, that did this — the sottish
hound!" said Lopré, as he rose from his knees
and, with little ceremony, pushed the body
from the road. "Home, now, my little maid.
We must report at once what has happened."

He took the child's hand and led her, tottering
and horror-stricken, home to the village.