was unloaded, or had been injured by its rough usage. The dull click
of the lock reached the ear of the target, who asked, in a low, gruff
voice:

"Why do _you_ seek me? You and I have no quarrel."

"A purty question, ye murtherin' haythen! I'll settle with yees, if
yees only come down here like a man. Jist play the wolf and belave me
a sheep, and come down here for your supper."

[Illustration: "A purty question, ye murtherin haythen!"]

"My quarrel is not with you, I tell you, but with your psalm-singing
_master_--"

"And ain't that _meself_?" interrupted Teddy. "What's mine is his, and
what's his is mine, and what's me is both, and what's both is me,
barring neither one is my own, but all belong to Master Harvey, and
Miss Cora, God bless their souls. Don't talk of quarreling wid _him_
and being friendly to _me_, ye murtherin' spalpeen! Jist come down
here a bit, I say, if ye's got a spick of honor in yer rusty shirt."

"My ill-will is not toward you, although, I repeat, if you step in my
way you may find it a dangerous matter. You think I tried to shoot
you, but you are mistaken. Do you suppose I could have come as near
and _missed_ without doing so on _purpose_? To-night I could have
brought you and your master, or his wife, and sent you all out of the
world in a twinkling. I've roamed the woods too long to miscarry at a
dozen yards."