“Yes; there were no more to send.  I warned Pierre Lajeunesse to be on the lookout.”

“Is your beast fit to trevel eny more?”

“I think so; it seems a strong animal.”

“Then get on hersebeck quick!  Here, kensteble, hend me two betons, and a kerbine!”

When the lawyer returned with his hard-ridden steed, he found Mr. Bangs mounted, with a baton by his side and a carbine slung behind him.  Off they went along the shore and up the hill.  Descending, they saw the buggy approaching slowly in the neighbourhood of the Hills’ log shanty, attended by four persons who seemed to be armed.  Hastening down the slope, they came up to it, and found the prisoner safe but awfully profane.  The foot guards were Ben Toner, Barney Sullivan, and Rufus Hill, under the command of Monsieur Lajeunesse.  They were relieved of their self-imposed duty with many thanks, and Coristine shook hands with the honest fellows, as he and the detective replaced them in escort duty.  Then Timotheus whipped up his horse, and they drove and rode into town, an imposing spectacle for the eyes of the youth of Collingwood.

Bangs could hardly believe his eyes, and could not conceal his delight, on beholding the murderer of his now buried friend.  No pains were spared for the safe-keeping of the notorious criminal.  In the presence of a magistrate, Coristine and Mr. Terry made affidavit as to his crimes and capture.  The latter and Timotheus also related his attempts to bribe them into giving him his liberty, offering large sums and promising to leave the country.  “Now, Mishter Corstine,” says the veteran, “it’s hoigh toime we was gettin’ home.  The good payple ‘ull be gettin’ onaisy about yeez, ‘an spashly Miss Carrmoichael that was gravin’ sore to think she niver said good-boye to yeez.  Come, now, come away, an’ lave the baste in the shtable, for it’s toired roidin’ ye must be.”

“I am not going back, Mr. Terry.  I said good-bye to them all at Bridesdale, and must hurry away to business.  Perhaps Timotheus will ride the horse, while you drive.”

“Thet pore enimel isn’t fit fer eny more werk to-night, Mr. Coristine.  I’ll tell you, Mr. Terry, whet I’ll do.  I shell be beck here to-morrow evening, end will ride the horse to Bridesdele.  I’ve got a weggon and team of the Squire’s here, which yeng Hill will drive beck for me.  Then he ken ride pore Nesh’s horse, and I ken get my own.  Strenge they didn’t give you one of thowse beasts instead of the colonel’s, Mr. Coristine.”

“Is this the colonel’s horse?”

“I should sey it is.  You down’t think eny ether enimel could hev brought you elong so fest, do you?”

“God bless the kind old man!” ejaculated the lawyer.