friends crept up unperceived almost to his side. Raising his rifle again, he steadily poised his aim, and pulled the trigger--erect the figure held its place, and resting his rifle upon the ground, he exclaimed--“I've hit him, or he's the devil himself!” “I guess its the old gentleman come for you, stranger,” said Dick, as he snatched the rifle from his hand, and the whole party closed in a circle round him. The detected squatter looked paralyzed--his tongue refused its office, while his form, quivering with apprehension, could scarcely keep erect, and his usually cold, uneasy eyes seemed fixed balls of light, so dreadful were they in their expression of coward fear. The party proposed to settle his business at once, and this movement loosened his tongue--he broke forth in piteous accents of supplication--“Oh, God! oh, God!” cried he, “you won't kill me--will you?” “Well,” said one of the party, “_we won't do anything else!_” Kelsy interposed, and suggested that his death be deferred until daylight, in order that the stranger might see how it was done, and be put to sleep respectably. They immediately adjourned to Dick's cabin, where they found Sam holding the straw figure in his arms, and looking in a state of stupor at the horse; he thought his master was “done for;” but great was his joy when the well-known sounds of Kelsy's voice assured him of his safety. The party seated themselves in a circle in the cabin, with the culprit in the centre, and his shrinking form, trembling with fear, and pallid, imploring countenance, looked most pitiful. As Kelsy gazed upon him the form of his sickly wife seemed to twine her arms around his neck, beseeching as when she before interposed herself between him and death, and the vision of his mind searched out a tender spot in Dick's heart. He resolved to give him a chance of escape, and, therefore, proposed to the party that they should decide by a _game of cards_, whether the stranger should die or be permitted to leave the country. Dick's friends protested against such mercy; but after an earnest appeal from him, in behalf of the woman, they yielded--cards were produced, and one of the party selected to play against the culprit. By Kelsy's entreaty, also, he was allowed the choice of his own game, and he selected _euchre_. All seated themselves closer around the players--breathing seemed almost suspended--a beam of hope lent a slight glow to the pallid countenance of the stranger, while the compressed lips and frowning brow of his antagonist, gave assurance that no mercy would temper his play for this fearful stake. The rest of the party shared his dislike for the culprit, who was looked upon as a common foe, and their flashing eyes were bent upon his swarthy countenance with an expression of deadly hate, which forced out the cold drops of perspiration upon his sickly brow, and sunk his heart with fear. The cards were cut, and the stranger won