After various short pauses to avoid deep ruts, and several descents by the driver to free his horses' hoofs from the loose stones that lay plentifully along the wretched road--during one of which he seemed to hold colloquy with some benighted traveller--the carriage had nearly crossed the long summit of the desolate hills, when its occupants perceived it to stop with a sudden and forcible impulse, that betokened instant danger. Dropping the glasses at once, they called loudly to the driver to enquire the cause. "There's a gentleman here," replied the man in a timid sullen voice, "houldin' the horses heads, that says I must stop here a spell."[27] "How many of 'em?" asked Skelton in a low tone. "Two," was the answer, just as softly; "one a-horseback, t'other a-foot." "Here we are, then!" said Rudd to his companion in a feverish whisper. "Yes; I wish 'twas over," was the reply, which was scarcely breathed when a man appeared at the right-hand carriage-window, and, presenting a pistol, said in a strong loud voice-- "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I must have your money." "Or your lives," added a man on horseback, blocking up the opposite side of the chaise. "This is very hard, sir," answered Rudd hesitatingly--"very--hard--indeed; however, I suppose it must be so: perhaps you'll be good enough to come round to the other door of the chaise--my friend here is, I fear, seriously ill-- "Certainly," said the robber, who was now heard walking round to the door already occupied by his mounted companion. "Are you steady?" whispered Rudd. "As steel!" answered Skelton. "Then slip the muzzle of the blunderbuss across me, and the moment the door is well opened, when I raise my arm with the purse, shoot him dead on the spot." The click of a trigger was the sole reply:--the highwayman had come round to the door. He had his grasp on the handle, when he was suddenly struck in the eyes with some icy liquid, that caused him to swerve violently aside, dragging open the door at the same moment. There was a terrific volley from the carriage, and Curly Cahill, receiving the greater portion of the contents of the blunderbuss intended for his friend, dropped heavily from his horse. Rudd and Skelton instantly sprang out. They found Hewitt (for our readers, no doubt, have anticipated it was he) engaged with their stalwart driver, who had already grappled with him, having, before he could recover from his shock, as well as surprise, by a well-directed blow knocked the pistol from his hand, and closed with him. The man would have been no match for Hewitt; but before the latter could draw another pistol, he was struck down by Rudd, and, with the powerful assistance of Skelton, handcuffed, and secured in the chaise.