"Yes, you know I will—ha—ha—ha!" laughed the robber.
"Man, for your own sake give it up!"
"Ha, ha, ha! for my sake!"
"Yes, for yours! Black Donald, have you ever reflected on death?" asked Capitola, in a low and terrible voice.
"I have risked it often enough; but as to reflecting upon it—it will be time enough to do that when it comes! I am a powerful man, in the prime and pride of life," said the athlete, stretching himself exultingly.
"Yet it might come—death might come with sudden overwhelming power, and hurl you to destruction! What a terrible thing for this magnificent frame of yours, this glorious handiwork of the Creator, to be hurled to swift destruction, and for the soul that animates it to be cast into hell!"
"Bosh again! That is a subject for the pulpit, not for a pretty girl's room. If you really think me such a handsome man, why don't you go with me at once and say no more about it," roared the outlaw laughing.
"Black Donald—will you leave my room?" cried Capitola, in an agony of prayer.
"No!" answered the outlaw, mocking her tone.
"Is there no inducement that I can hold out to you to leave me?"