"The rascal!" I interrupted; for everything that Moth did appeared hateful to me.
"Yes, and I, not to be outdone, fired back, but over his head, thinking to frighten him; and truly enough, for he turned and fled. My horse was the better of the two, but he the lighter, so for a long time there was no advantage. At last, my animal having the best wind, I overhauled him, and releasing a pistol I raised it and fired, intending, as before, to frighten him into giving up his purse, for I do not think I could kill a man if I were starving."
"Well?"
"Well, just as I fired, my horse, left to himself, stumbled, and falling on his face, threw me over his head into the road."
"Then what happened?" I asked, sympathizing with him in his misfortune.
"The fall stunned me, and before I could so much as stir the little scamp had disarmed me, and when I looked up, bruised and hurt, he held a pistol within an inch of my nose."
"That was too bad," I answered, sorry that Moth should have been the victor.
"When I had recovered a little, he told me to get up, and keeping me under the muzzle of a pistol, marched me forward. After a while, coming across a farmer, they bound me with ropes and straps, and in that shape brought me here."
"What will he do with you now?" I asked, forgetting my own sorrows in his.
"Take me to the county jail. They would have done it to-day, only the jailer and he were off in search of you. Oh, if I had my hands and legs free, I would show him a trick worth two of his!" the robber exclaimed, surveying his limbs with a sigh.