"God help you, Donald Bayne, in your great trouble, and I will do all I can to help you in this world. I will go to the Governor myself, and tell him I know you never did any murder."
"Remove the prisoner," said the judge, peremptorily.
The constables approached and led away Black Donald.
Old Hurricane rushed upon Cap, seized her, and, shaking her fiercely, exclaimed, under his breath:
"You—you—you—you New York hurrah boy! You foundling! You vagabond! You vagrant! You brat! You beggar! Will you never be a lady? To go and shake hands with that ruffian!"
"Sure, uncle, that's nothing new; I have shaken hands with you often enough!"
"Demmy, you—you—you New York trash, what do you mean by that?"
"Of course I mean, uncle, that you are as rough a ruffian as ever Donald Bayne was!"
"Demmy, I'll murder you!"
"Don't, uncle; they have an uncivilized way here of hanging murderers," said Cap, shaking herself free of Old Hurricane's grasp, and hastening out of the court-room to mount her horse and ride home.