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The old man I have mentioned, the one with long, sunburnt hair and buckskin shirt and who seemed a sort of aide or lieutenant to father, rode close to our wagon and indicated the jaded saddle-animals with a cock of his head. "Not sparin' horseflesh, Captain," he muttered in a low voice. "An' what in the name of Sam Hill are they hard-riding for if it ain't for us?"
His face was pale also, but his pallor was that of fasting and the hair shirt; the mouth expressed the determination of the spirit to conquer the restless longing of the eyes; his nostrils were spirited; his figure was lean and nervous; he moved his feet occasionally, and clutched at the brown Franciscan habit.
"So that's it. I am very sorry, father, if these are your sentiments; but I may as well tell you at once I shan't go." "You must go." "No," he said, squaring his shoulders and putting out his shirt front; he had never been roused into rebellion before, and perhaps without these extra glasses of sherry he would not have had the courage now.
He was clean-shaven and clean-shirted; but the shirt was of rough brown flannel. His leather trousers were creased and baggy at the knees. At his hip protruded the butt of a big revolver.
Then, if they should somehow get hold of the buckskin bag, they'd only get the gold nugget; but, to get the map, they'd have to get me; and, I reckon, dad and the rest of you are able to keep them from doing that!" "That sounds sensible," declared Ham. "Thure'll always have his shirt on his back night an' day; an' so we'll jest have tew keep an eye on Thure.
He instantly cocked his gun, stepped behind a tree, and waited till the Indian came within the sure range of his shot. He then fired and the Indian fell. Rushing from the cover on his prostrate foe, he was about to apply the scalping knife; but seeing the shining silver broaches, and broad bands on his arms, he fell to cutting them loose, and tucking them into the bosom of his hunting shirt.
The officer of the customs, conceiving his life in danger, escaped out of his bedroom window, and fled in his shirt, so that the plunderers, with much ease, possessed themselves of about two hundred pounds of public money. The robbery was committed in a very audacious manner, for several persons were passing in the street at the time.
"Magglin it is!" he said, as the man opened his eyes, and gazed wildly up at the lantern. "Where are you hurt, my lad?" said the keeper quietly. "My arm! my arm!" groaned the man piteously. The keeper took out his knife, and, giving Mercer the lantern to hold, deliberately slit up the sleeves of the injured man's jacket and shirt. "Hah!" he ejaculated.
'Hark ye, sir! said I, 'no more noise, or you are a dead man! and taking a handkerchief, I bound it tight around his mouth so as well-nigh to throttle him, and, pulling forward the sleeves of his shirt, tied them in a knot together, and so left him; removing the papers and the purse, you may be sure, and wishing him politely a good day.
"Yonder; he is coming this way, with a tall complexion, a leg o' mutton whisker, and a pock-marked shirt," replied Pat. "Why, he's a big fellow?" "Big! I should think he was. He is like a double-breasted beer barrel. He's been a screw at some other prison; you can see that by the cut of his jib." "Oh! I know him," said Dick, "he's from Dartmoor; he is not a bad sort of fellow, that.
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