"Your money or your life!" repeated the low, hoarse voice, in an imperious tone.
For reply, the doctor, rendered desperate by the fear of losing his money, drew a pistol and fired. As it flashed, he saw for a moment a horse standing before him, but the rider seemed to have lain flat down, for no man was there. Ere he could draw his second pistol, his horse was grasped by the bridle-rein, and the cold muzzle of a pistol was pressed to his temple.
"Your money or your life!" cried a fierce, excited voice that terror alone prevented him from recognizing. "Deliver up your money, old man, or this instant you shall die."
"Oh, spare my life!" cried the wretched doctor, in an agony of terror, for the cold ring of steel still pressed his temple like the deadly fang of a serpent. "Spare my life, for God's sake, and you shall have all! I'm a poor man, but you shall have it."
"Quick, then," was the imperious rejoinder, as the doctor fumbled in his pockets, and at last, with a deep groan of despair, surrendered the plump pocket-book to the daring outlaw.
"That is all I have; now let me go," cried the miserable doctor.
"Yes; but first you must solemnly swear never to speak to man, woman, or child of what has occurred to-night. Swear by your own miserable soul!"
"I swear!" groaned the unhappy doctor.
"And lest you should be tempted to commit perjury, and break your oath, let me tell you that the very first attempt to do so will be followed by instant death. Mind! I will watch you day and night, dog your steps like a blood-hound, and if you dare to breathe it to living mortal, that moment will be your last."
"I'll never mention it! I'll never speak of it. Oh, let me go," implored the agonized Galen.