Indeed, a deputy United States marshal and his men had arrived, and the Duns, five in number, were captured, not however until two of them had been severely wounded. The prisoners were brought to the house, where one man, a sort of physician, attended to the wounded.
"I am very sorry that we got you into trouble," said the deputy marshal, addressing Potter, "but you have greatly aided us in breaking up this gang."
"What will you do with them?" Potter asked.
"They will be sent to the United States prison at Detroit. They have stolen a great deal of valuable timber, for which the government has use, and their terms are not likely to be short. I don't think you need to fear any more trouble, as the entire gang is now broken up. Well, boys, go and get the wagon and we will haul our violent woodchoppers to Little Rock."
That night old Alf, taking down his fiddle, remarked: "Got ter hab some music, now. Oh, I tell yer dat when er man praises de Lawd wid er little music now an' den, it takes er mighty powerful evil speret ter lay his claw on him."
[CHAPTER VII.]
One evening old Alf, having put away the supper dishes, took down his fiddle and began to twang its strings, but failing to feel his wonted interest in the instrument, put it down and then sought diversion in the humming of an old "corn-shucking" song; but again meeting with failure, he got up, sadly shook his head, and began to walk up and down the room. Potter and John, who were reading, paid no attention. Suddenly he exclaimed: