Vernon attempted to rise, bowie-knife in hand, to the conflict.  Jerry Swinger was about to put his threat in execution, when Maxwell, released, by the fall of the woman, from danger in that quarter, struck him a heavy blow upon the head with the pistol in his hand.  The woodman sunk back, with a groan, and Vernon, rising from his fallen posture, was about to plunge the knife to his heart, when a new actor appeared upon the stage.  The blade of Vernon was arrested in its deadly descent, and a single blow from the fist of the new-comer laid the black-leg prostrate by the side of the woodman.  Maxwell was thrown off his guard by the suddenness of the new assailant’s movements, and, before he could raise his pistol,—­his only dependence,—­it was wrested from him.  The new-comer threw the pistol down, and, seizing the attorney by the neck, and applying a smart blow with the knee upon his back, he brought him to the floor.  Taking a cord which hung on the cabin wall, he bound the fallen man hand and foot, and dragged him out of the cabin.  Placing his back against a tree, he lashed him firmly to its trunk.  Leaving the chop-fallen attorney to mature his plans, the conqueror returned to the hut.

“O, Hatchie, Hatchie! you have again saved me!” exclaimed Emily, as she saw her deliverer reenter.  “Thank God!  I am safe, though at what a terrible sacrifice!”

She had, in her terror, obtained but a very imperfect idea of the exciting scene which had transpired before her.  When she saw Vernon fall, and then Maxwell, she realized that she was safe.  With an effort,—­for her excited nerves had taken away her strength,—­she rose from her position on the floor, by the side of her lifeless hostess.  At this moment Hatchie entered, and, with a heart full of gratitude, she grasped his hand.

“O, Hatchie! what do I not owe you for this service!”

“I am so happy to serve you, Miss Emily!” replied Hatchie, rejoiced to hear again his mistress’ voice.

“You have been my best friend in this season of adversity.  Without you, I had been lost forever.  But let us do what we may for these poor people, who have, I fear, sacrificed their lives in my defence.”

The inanimate form of Mrs. Swinger was placed upon the bed by Hatchie, and, while Emily endeavored to ascertain the nature of her wound, the mulatto examined into Jerry’s condition.  The worthy woodman had only been stunned by the blow, and Hatchie’s vigorous application soon restored him to consciousness.  With the assistance of the mulatto, he rose.  Looking wildly around him, he discovered the form of Vernon upon the floor.  This seemed to recall his recollection of the events of the hour.

“Whar’s Suke?” said he.

Then perceiving her outstretched form upon the bed, he calmly, but very sorrowfully, asked, “Is she dead?”

“No, thank God! she is not dead; but I fear she is badly injured,” replied Emily, who was still bending over the sufferer.