But, fortunately for Ralph Colleton, whatever and how many or how few were the impelling motives leading to this determination, Munro had decided upon the preservation of his life; and, with that energy of will, which, in a rash office, or one violative of the laws, he had always heretofore displayed, he permitted no time to escape him unemployed for the contemplated purpose.  His mind immediately addressed itself to its chosen duty, and, in one disguise or another, and those perpetually changing, he perambulated the village, making his arrangements for the desired object.  The difficulties in his way were not trifling in character nor few in number; and the greatest of these was that of finding coadjutors willing to second him.  He felt assured that he could confide in none of his well-known associates, who were to a man the creatures of Rivers; that outlaw, by a liberality which seemed to disdain money, and yielding every form of indulgence, having acquired over them an influence almost amounting to personal affection.  Fortunately for his purpose, Rivers dared not venture much into the village or its neighborhood; therefore, though free from any fear of obstruction from one in whose despite his whole design was undertaken, Munro was yet not a little at a loss for his co-operation.  To whom, at that moment, could he turn, without putting himself in the power of an enemy?  Thought only raised up new difficulties in his way, and in utter despair of any better alternative, though scarcely willing to trust to one of whom he deemed so lightly, his eyes were compelled to rest, in the last hope, upon the person of the pedler, Bunce.

Bunce, if the reader will remember, had, upon his release from prison, taken up his abode temporarily in the village.  Under the protection now afforded by the presence of the judge, and the other officers of justice—­not to speak of the many strangers from the adjacent parts, whom one cause or another had brought to the place—­he had presumed to exhibit his person with much more audacity and a more perfect freedom from apprehension than he had ever shown in the same region before.  He now—­for ever on the go—­thrust himself fearlessly into every cot and corner.  No place escaped the searching analysis of his glance; and, in a scrutiny so nice, it was not long before he had made the acquaintance of everybody and everything at all worthy, in that region, to be known.  He could now venture to jostle Pippin with impunity; for, since the trial in which he had so much blundered, the lawyer had lost no small portion of the confidence and esteem of his neighbors.  Accused of the abandonment of his client—­an offence particularly monstrous in the estimation of those who are sufficiently interested to acquire a personal feeling in such matters—­and compelled, as he had been—­a worse feature still in the estimation of the same class—­to “eat his own words”—­he had lost caste prodigiously in the last few days, and his