have ever catched? Catch a pirate before you hang him say I.’” “So say I too,” said McMurdough, laughing. “As long as we have satisfaction among ourselves we may defy the devil; but some things must be altered, or I don’t serve under, Antonio.” “McMurdough, the boy keeps very quiet,” observed Hawkins: “like as not you fixed him, so he’ll die before his time.” “May be so—he’s but an unfledged bird, and will not stand rough handling. No concern of mine, I did but _his_ bidding.” “The moon is wrapping herself up in as black a cloak as ours,” remarked Hawkins, “so we might as well take a little rest. But first I’ll step above and see about the child. If he’s smothered, all the better; I never had so little mind to a job in my life.” “Why so? he says there is no doubt of the fortune—just put this one out of the way, and he’s the next heir.” “It goes against my conscience, McMurdough, to shed the blood of the young and innocent; let there be guilt where I strike.” He ascended the ladder, and groped for the spot where lay the victim of their cruelty. No sound escaped from him, and it was not until he pulled away the gag and uncovered his face, that he perceived the boy still breathed. His pulses were quick and faint, betokening exhausted and failing life. He was evidently locked in a deep slumber, which neither the terrors of his situation nor the gripe of the iron screws, had power to break. Folded in the sweet mantle of forgetfulness, he was insensible to every thing but the busy fancies that sported in his brain. Even the stern heart of the murderer relented, when a straggling moonbeam fell on the pale face, and revealed the bruises made by the hand of violence. The fresh air seemed already to revive the young slumberer, and he had not the heart to shut it out, but turned his head towards the rent in the wall, and then endeavored to seek repose in another part of the building. The covering of night was not so secure as the banditti supposed. The faithful Arrowfoot, with untiring step, had followed all the windings of their rugged course. Resolving not to lose the traces of their flight, he had traversed dangers which by day light would have appeared impassable; and while they were placing their charge in the upper story of the house, crept within hearing and laid himself down in a thick underwood, where his ear caught every word which passed between them. It was his presence which had scared the whippoorwill from its perch, and gave occasion to the imprecation of the ruffian. He listened intently to their discourse, which revealed all he suspected, that Julian was the contriver of the whole scheme of {747} abduction and murder. As soon as he heard this, he moved off as lightly as the air itself, and making his way to the boat they had left, seized the oars, and with the skill of a practised hand pushed over the water, straining every nerve to give the alarm before Fitzgerald’s arrival at the designated spot.