Had it suited Uncle Lawrence’s purpose that second would have been the last of the ruffian’s existence. A younger man would have been unable, in the sudden heat of the affray, to have restrained himself, even from motives of the clearest policy. But the veteran was as cool and wary now as when sitting by his own hearth. Nothing could induce him to waste his fire; for, in that case, he might not have time to reload before the other refugees came up.
“Throw down your gun,” he said, however. “You are at my mercy.”
What answer Arrison would have made, if no succor had arrived, we cannot say. But, at this crisis, his sharpened ear heard the crackling of the undergrowth, as his followers came running up at full speed, their pace accelerated by the two shots which had been fired in such quick succession; for though it has required a considerable time to describe all this, the whole period between the death of the bloodhound and the useless discharge of Arrison’s gun, had scarcely occupied more than a minute.
Aware that an overwhelming force was now at hand, the outlaw sprang forwards towards Kate, endeavoring to elude his antagonist, and crying out,
“Shoot the old man; but spare the girl. Shoot quick!”
But he did not finish the sentence. Uncle Lawrence, who faced the intruders, had the advantage of observing what Arrison could not; and saw that the new comers, so far from being refugees entirely, were partly Major Gordon and his follows.
In fact, the speed of the patriots had been also accelerated by the shots; they had rushed forward at full run, fearing that Uncle Lawrence was overpowered; and had arrived at the scene simultaneously with the outlaws, the latter only discovering the presence of foes at the very moment that Arrison cried out; for, on their part, they had been so entirely absorbed in what was going on ahead, that they had neither looked behind, nor heard the steps of their pursuers. Instead, therefore, of being able to assist their leader, the outlaws found their own hands full; for the patriots dashed upon them at once, like hunters that have run down a wolf, which has long been the terror of the district.
All this Uncle Lawrence took in with one rapid glance, and seeing that the ruffian’s time had come, he leveled his gun at Arrison’s heart and pulled the trigger, just as the wretch was darting past to lay his sacrilegious hands on Kate.
“To die the death of a dog at last,” he mentally ejaculated. “I knew it years ago.”
As he thus soliloquized, the burly person of the ruffian, spinning half round, while the arms were suddenly thrown up, tumbled headlong to the ground, where it fell directly across the body of the dead hound. Life was gone, even before the form touched the earth.