He recited that portion of the ritual which was necessary before he asked the question, “and if any know just cause or reason why these should not be joined together in the bands of holy wedlock, let them now speak or forever after hold their peace,” when the crowd scattered before the rush of a strong man, and the gigantic figure of the Forest Fiend sprung into the circle and hurled Black Will ten paces backward by a single thrust of his powerful arm, while he cried, fiercely: “I forbid the banns!” “Down with him,” roared Black Will, drawing his knife. “At him, boys.” “Back!” cried the strange being, “back, for your lives. It is not right that innocence and youth should be forced to wed with such a thing as this, and I forbid it. Back, I say.” They recoiled before the stern figure, especially those among them who had felt the nervous force of his strong arm, while Black Will looked at the clergyman. “Do not mind the ravings of a madman, sir,” he said; “this man is insane and knows not what he does.” “It is false, reverend sir,” replied the Forest Fiend. “I am as sane a man as any here, and know whereof I speak. Fall back, men; don’t press upon me. Ha, they will have it, then. Melton’s Scout to the rescue!” As the tones of his sonorous voice rung out through the deep forest, there came a charging cheer, and the buck-skin shirts and coon-skin caps of Melton’s Scout showed through the leafy cover, and with wild cries they poured upon the foe. Not a shot was fired, for Sadie, the missionary and the Forest Fiend stood in the midst of the enemy, and the Scout dared not fire. But as the enemy retreated, snatching up their weapons as they went, at a signal from the Forest Fiend, Sadie and the missionary fell upon their faces, and the Scout poured in a single withering volley which strewed the ground with dead and dying, and then charged upon the foe with knife, hatchet and pistol. The Forest Fiend caught up a rifle from the earth, and using it as a club, headed the charge. Close behind him came Charles Melton, Cooney Joe and Tom Bantry, striking out manfully for the right, and felling an adversary at every blow. But none could equal the strange being known as the Forest Fiend. Taking the ponderous rifle in one hand, he made it play about his head with lightning rapidity, and the renegades went down before him like chaff before the wind. Taken by surprise, it was no wonder that the retreat soon became a rout, and they scattered to the four winds, closely pursued by their determined assailants. One man, and that man Dick Garrett, dared to bar the way of the Forest Fiend, who paused with uplifted weapon and looked at him. “At last, villain,” he cried, “your time has come!”