"No tools worth using," he replied; "but I know where to get them. That, however, may delay us for three or four days. Still, I doubt if that won't be too soon for him. He does not want courage when his blood is up; but it soon cools down, and then the lawyer comes over him again." "We must not give it time to cool," I answered; "and I have a very good excuse for hurrying things on, as a stranger in the land, whose stay must necessarily be uncertain." Having arranged all that matter with Mr. Byles, I joined Mr. Henry Thornton, who was looking somewhat grave, but did not in any way refer to the personal altercation between his relation and myself. At Jerusalem, which we reached after a somewhat tiresome ride, we found Mr. Hubbard, and one or two magistrates. A long, legal discussion. ensued, first as to the validity of the writ, and next as to the amount of bail which was to be taken from Mr. Lewis and Mr. Thornton, who, I found, were charged with a conspiracy to defraud certain persons, amongst whom I was one. There is no need to enter into any of the details of these matters; suffice it, that Robert Thornton easily procured the necessary sureties, and that, after much difficulty, Mr. Lewis did the same. The great question, however, was in regard to the custody of good Aunt Bab's negroes, whom Mr. Robert Thornton very much wished to carry back to his father's plantation. The sheriff peremptorily interfered, however; and, notwithstanding some threats and many arguments, took possession of them himself, to hold them for the lawful owner. The greater portion of the day had been consumed by these proceedings, and the whole party were glad to separate and get to their several homes. I wended my way back to Mr. Stringer's, accompanied, as far as the gate on the high road, by Mr. Henry Thornton and bold Billy Byles. There they left me, and I pursued my way alone, revolving all the little incidents of the day. I am always sorry when I suffer anger to overcome me, and I regretted having struck the pitiful trickster, opposed to me, more than the one blow which was necessary to knock the pistol out of his hand. I felt a certain degree of self-reproach, and, perhaps, some lingering shadow of the kind remained upon my face. Under the porch of Mr. Stringer's house, when I arrived, were several members of the family, and Miss Davenport, reading or working in the shade. A thousand questions were poured upon me as to the course and end of our adventure; but none came from Bessy, though her look was raised to my face, and her eyes seemed to question mine. "Was there any resistance?" asked Mr. Stringer. "Very slight," I replied; "one worthy gentleman thought fit to draw a pistol but it was knocked out of his hand, and went off upon the ground." "Robert Thornton, of course," said Bessy; "bully and knave combined."