Whereupon his lordship drew forth a large envelope from his pocket and proceeded to fasten it to the trunk of a big tree which grew in the middle of the road, an act of premeditation which showed strange powers of prophecy.  How could he, except by means of clairvoyance, have known before leaving home that he was not to meet his enemy face to face?

As Mr. Shaw afterward read the note and tossed it into the river, it is only fair that the world should know its contents while it hung unfolded to the bark of the tall tree.  It said, in a very scrawling hand:  “Mr. Shaw, I have looked all over this end of your land for you this afternoon.  You doubtless choose to avoid me.  So be it.  Let me state, once and for all, that your conduct is despicable.  I came here personally to tell you to keep off my land, henceforth and forever.  I will not repeat this warning, but will instead, if you persist, take such summary measures as would befit a person of your instincts.  I trust you will feel the importance of keeping off.”  To this his lordship bravely signed himself.

“There,” he muttered, again holding his watch and fob up for close inspection.  “He’ll not soon overlook what I’ve said in that letter, confound him.”

He had not observed the approach of Randolph Shaw, who now stood, pipe in hand, some twenty paces behind him in the road.

“What the devil are you doing?” demanded a strong bass voice.  It had the effect of a cannon shot.

His lordship leaped half out of his corduroys, turned with agonizing abruptness toward the tall young man, and gasped “Oh!” so shrilly that his horse looked up with a start.  The next instant his watch dropped forgotten from his fingers and his nimble little legs scurried for territory beyond the log.  Nor did he pause upon reaching that supposedly safe ground.  The swift glance he gave the nearby river was significant as well as apprehensive.  It moved him to increased but unpolished haste.

He leaped frantically for the saddle, scorning the stirrups landing broadside but with sufficient nervous energy in reserve to scramble on and upward into the seat.  Once there, he kicked the animal in the flanks with both heels, clutching with his knees and reaching for the bridle rein in the same motion.  The horse plunged obediently, but came to a stop with a jerk that almost unseated the rider; the sapling swayed; the good but forgotten rein held firm.

“Ha!” gasped his lordship as the horrid truth became clear to him.

“Charge, Bonaparte!” shouted the man in the road.

“Soldiers?” cried the rider with a wild look among the trees.

“My dog,” called back the other.  “He charges at the word.”

“Well, you know, I saw service in the army,” apologized his lordship, with a pale smile.  “Get ep!” to the horse.

“What’s your hurry?” asked Shaw, grinning broadly as he came up to the log.

“Don’t—­don’t you dare to step over that log,” shouted Bazelhurst.