'Oh they kept him confined for several months, and he wasted away
past beleiveen. Nobody here took to him like. At last the new Mr.
Jonas said to him one morneen:

'"Mr. Jonas that was, pray come down with me to the side of the lake
that we may converse. I like best to contemplate the might of God
through the agitasheen of the waters; and behold how the storm blows!"

'The poor, wasted Wesleyan went with him; but he never came back. An
hour later the new Mr. Jonas returned; but he made no allusion to the
real minister. We afterwards learnt that he had drowned him in the
pond.'

'Great God, how horrible!'

'There now, you must not say anything against the habits and customs
of the place. I will bid you good morneen.' Taking his rod and line
the sleek desperado made his way up the stream; and our hero was left
to horrible recollections. There was a noise among the parched
leaves, and a moving of boughs. Then Nancy stood before him. She did
not expect to find him here at the first turn, and she blushed deeply.

'I thought The Lifter was with you still. But I am glad that he has
left you. We shall fish arid talk here. Has The Lifter told you
anything about the history of the highwaymen?'

'Yes; I have heard enough to make me sick at heart.'

'Did he tell you about the Captain?'