“Well, I’m jiggered!” cried Ludlow, when the tale was finished. “Why didn’t you let us know this in the first place?” He then informed the gambler that he would ride back to Three Corners and explain the situation to the schoolmistress. She had only to tell her story to the judge, he said, and it was a certainty he would interfere in some way. Cutler demurred, but Ludlow bluntly told him to “go to h----; he wasn’t going to see a good man hounded to death.” With that, turning on his heel, he left without another word. Going back to the camp, Ludlow informed Sheriff Benson that under no circumstances ought he to attempt to take Cutler, and asked him to await his return from Three Corners. Benson replied, “I want none of your conversation, Ludlow; Cutler is a downright murderer, and I mean to have him.” Ludlow, disdaining further argument, rode off at full speed toward the little town where all the trouble had occurred. Not knowing just what card Ludlow had up his sleeve, the sheriff decided to make quick work of Cutler’s capture. He therefore sent a party of deputies to Malvern, the nearest telegraph station, and in the name of the law asked the county militia to send him some men with a mountain gun, the property of private individuals who practised soldiering as a pastime. Each State in America, it may be said in passing, possesses several such regiments, which are available in war-time, although in no way a part of the Government organization, and having no connection with the State militia. It would have been useless to attempt to dislodge Cutler as matters stood, but Benson believed that a few shots from a cannon might have the desired effect. When his message was received at Malvern it created a sensation. Business was for the nonce neglected and everybody--men, women, and children--made their way toward the sheriffs camp at Table Hill. Several attempts were made to parley with Cutler, without success, and so three days went by. On the afternoon of the fourth day the refugee on the rock was thunderstruck to see a body of soldiers approaching from the south, with a field gun hauled by four horses. He did not know whether to laugh or to regard this seriously. Surely the officers of the law would not resort to bombarding him with a cannon? Soon the soldiers reached the camp, and about an hour later Cutler saw that the gun, a howitzer, was being trained on the hill where he lay enjoying a smoke. There was no chance of his getting away other than by the path by which he had come. Behind him there was a sheer drop of hundreds of feet into the gully far below. True, he could descend some distance down the mountain-side, but if the besiegers really meant business this would not help him much. Nothing was done that day, but Cutler kept vigilant watch all through the night. He had regularly built a huge fire some way down the mountain-side, which was protected by trees to some extent, but lit up the path for a considerable distance.