As soon as the afternoon service was over, he proceeded to the Treasurer's house, to congratulate him on his re-election to the treasurership, and give a full account of his adventure. To his exaggerated account, Kerr listened with the most intense interest; a feeling of horror crept over his frame as the Deacon dwelt upon the blow he had received from the coachman's head, and the efficacious manner in which the two inside phantoms had used theirs, concluding with-- "It was a fearful and unequal strife--devils against mortal men." "Do you really think they were devils, Deacon? Was it really their own heads they threw about?" said the Treasurer. "I am not clear to say they were devils," replied the other; "but they fought like devils. Severe blows they gave, as I feel at this moment. They could not be anything canny; for they got out from among our hands like a flash of light." The Deacon's vanity would have tempted him to say he believed them to be not of this earth; but the same feeling restrained him. Where there had been so many actors in the affair, he had as yet had no opportunity of learning their sentiments; and, above all things, he hated to be in a minority, or made an object of ridicule. Turning aside the direct question of the Treasurer, he continued-- "Whatever they were, the horses are two as bonny blacks as any gentleman could wish to put into his carriage. By my troth, I have made a good adventure of it. I mean to propose, and I have no doubt I shall carry my motion, that they and the Major's coach be sold, and the proceeds spent in a treat to the incorporation. Make haste, man, and get better. You are as welcome to a share as if you had been one of those present; although, indeed, I cannot give you a share of the glory of putting Major Weir and his devils to the rout--and no small glory it is, on the word of a deacon, Treasurer." The load that had for many days pressed down the Treasurer's spirits gradually passed off as the Deacon proceeded, and a new light shone on his mind; his countenance brightened up. "Deacon," he said, "the truth begins to dawn upon me, and I feel a new man. Confess at once that the whole has been a contrivance of the smugglers to run their goods, availing themselves of the real Major's coach. It was a bold game, Deacon, and, like all unlawful games, a losing one in the end. Still, it is strange what inducement they could have had for their cruel conduct to me on that miserable night, or how I was enabled to survive, or retained my reason. I have been often lost in fearful misery upon this subject since the fever left me; but you, my friend, have restored peace to my mind."