‘I have not,’ was the reply, and Monteagle, bidding them ‘good evening,’ turned to take his way to the city. At this moment his arms were firmly pinioned to his sides by one of the men, while the other quickly and adroitly drew his revolver from his pocket, and passed a strong cord several times tightly round his arms. The man who had heretofore held him in his iron gripe, in spite of his determined struggles, suddenly tripped up his heels, and he fell heavily upon the hard beach. The sudden shock for a few seconds deprived him of his senses, and when recollection returned he found himself still lying on the wet shore, from which the tide had but just receded. His arms were tightly lashed behind his back, and his eyes closely bandaged. For a few moments no sound was heard but the low murmuring of the small waves as they rolled upon the beach, and his own heavy breathing, for he had violently resisted the ruffians in their attempt to bind him; but the assault had been too sudden and unexpected for his efforts to be of any avail. He now attempted to unbind his arms, but all his attempts were perfectly futile. ‘I hope you’re having a good time of it, casting off them stoppers. Nothing’ll open them lashings but a sharp knife, and if you get one at all it will be through your blasted ribs, if I had my way about it.’ ‘Who are you, sir; and what means this rascally violence?’ ‘Take it coolly, my young game-cock, and bless your stars you haven’t a brace of bullets through your bloody heart,’ said another voice, which he recognized as that of the person who had questioned him about the goat. Monteagle revolved in his mind all the occurrences which had transpired in the last few days, in order to account for this strange outrage. At first he thought robbery might be their object; but this idea was put to flight when he remembered that while he lay senseless no attempts had been made to deprive him of the little gold he had about him. Another person now joined the party, and he heard the three in low and apparently earnest consultation. Soon they ceased talking, and approached him.—Two of them raised him to his feet, and one of them said in a rough, brutal tone, ‘Now, stir your stumps, and walk where we lead you.’ ‘But how if I refuse to walk?’ said Monteagle. ‘Then we’ll take you by the neck and drag you over the beach, if the sharp stones scrape the flesh from your cursed bones.’ ‘Release me; or my cries shall bring assistance,’ said Monteagle, resolutely. ‘Speak one loud word, and the contents of this crash through your scull,’ said the last comer, in a firm calm voice, and our hero felt the cold muzzle of a revolver pressed against his temple, and at the same instant the sharp click announced it was at full cock. Monteagle had as brave a heart as ever beat in mortal bosom; but here was a dilemma that would have made even Jack Hays pause for reflection. But little time was given Monteagle for thought.