Wringhim forced his mouth from under his brother's hand, and roared with redoubled energy: "Eh! Egh! Murder! murder!" etc. George had felt resolute to put down this shocking alarm, lest someone might hear it and fly to the spot, or draw inferences widely different from the truth; and, perceiving the terror of this elect youth to be so great that expostulation was vain, he seized him by the mouth and nose with his left hand so strenuously that he sank his fingers into his cheeks. But, the poltroon still attempting to bray out, George gave him such a stunning blow with his fist on the left temple that he crumbled, as it were, to the ground, but more from the effects of terror than those of the blow. His nose, however, again gushed out blood, a system of defence which seemed as natural to him as that resorted to by the race of stinkards. He then raised himself on his knees and hams, and raising up his ghastly face, while the blood streamed over both ears, he besought his life of his brother, in the most abject whining manner, gaping and blubbering most piteously. "Tell me then, Sir," said George, resolved to make the most of the wretch's terror--"tell me for what purpose it is that you haunt my steps? Tell me plainly, and instantly, else I will throw you from the verge of that precipice." "Oh, I will never do it again! I will never do it again! Spare my life, dear, good brother! Spare my life! Sure I never did you any hurt." "Swear to me, then, by the God that made you, that you will never henceforth follow after me to torment me with your hellish threatening looks; swear that you will never again come into my presence without being invited. Will you take an oath to this effect?" "Oh yes! I will, I will!" "But this is not all: you must tell me for what purpose you sought me out here this morning?" "Oh, brother! For nothing but your good. I had nothing at heart but your unspeakable profit, and great and endless good." "So, then, you indeed knew that I was here?" "I was told so by a friend, but I did not believe him; a--a--at least I did not know that it was true till I saw you." "Tell me this one thing, then, Robert, and all shall be forgotten and forgiven. Who was that friend?" "You do not know him." "How then does he know me?" "I cannot tell." "Was he here present with you to-day?" "Yes; he was not far distant. He came to this hill with me." "Where then is he now?" "I cannot tell." "Then, wretch, confess that the devil was that friend who told you I was here, and who came here with you. None else could possibly know of my being here."