"I'll mow them," cried Mr. Robert Thornton, drawing a brace of small pistols out of his pocket. "If you have a warrant, Mr. Byles, produce it; if not, stand out of my way, or by I'll shoot you as dead as mutton. Here's one for you, and one for your John Bull accomplice. Curse me, if I had him by myself half an hour, if I would not give him such a whipping, for the love I bear his country, as would send him back howling." He paused for a minute, to see if his braggadocio would have any effect; but Billy Byles continued right before him, and I only smiled, taking care, however, to grasp my heavy-headed riding-whip by the middle, in case he should proceed to any act of violence. At the same time the men from the waggons began to come up. Mr. Leary brandished a stout stick which he carried, and I thought I heard a noise of trotting horses not far off. The next minute the click of Thornton's pistol-lock was audible; and, with one glance to see that it was properly capped, he raised it right in the direction of my bold friend. "Dammee, fire if you dare!" cried Billy Byles. But I saw that no time was to be lost; and the head of my hunting-whip descended upon Mr. Thornton's knuckles with such a blow as to make him instantly relax his hold; and down went the pistol to the ground, going off amongst the horses' feet, but hurting no one. In the meantime Mr. Leary had engaged in a struggle with one of the stout farmers who had accompanied us, and both having been pulled from their horses, were rolling over and over on the ground together. Mr. Lewis was still beckoning to the men behind to come up; but they seemed very little inclined to obey, and moved but slowly towards the spot where hard blows were going. Thornton, with the other pistol in his hand, had now turned upon me; but Mr. Byles, spurring his horse upon him, caught him by the collar, and threw him back; and the other farmer, riding up, pulled him off his horse and wrenched the pistol fairly out of his grasp. At the same time, the sheriff and his party began to appear from behind the old stockade, and there was soon a sufficient force on the field to render further resistance unavailable. When they saw Mr. Henry Thornton's face in the approaching party, the negroes, who had sat seemingly stupefied in the waggons, not comprehending what was going on, rose up and gave a cheer, mingled with a loud and joyful laugh, and the sheriff riding round, exclaimed, "Who fired that shot?" "It was Bob Thornton's pistol," said Billy Byles; "but I think Sir Richard's gentle rap of the knuckles made it go off, before he would have dared to fire it himself." "That's a lie," said Bob Thornton. "If he had not knocked it out of my hand, the ball would have been through your heart, you purse-proud jackass. But I will bring him to account for it. He struck me. You saw him, Mr. Lewis--you saw him, Leary; and the d--ned English cur shall smart for it. You all saw him strike me."