"'I never felt less like laughing,' I replied, hardly daring to believe that the peril was past and that I was still alive.
"'Our highwayman is an old stump, don't you see?' exclaimed Louis. I looked again and saw that what he said was true; a gnarled tree stump, some twisted branches, a deceiving white vapour, and perhaps, too, our own vivid imaginations, these were the elements which had given birth to our highwayman.
"'I never was more taken in,' said Louis, as he resumed his seat beside me. 'It was the dead image of a man on horseback holding out a pistol. I'll come down here to-morrow and examine the place, to find out how I could have been so silly, but in the daylight, of course, it will look quite different. I shan't ever dare to tell the story, however, for they'll laugh at me from the Red River to the Mississippi, and say I'm getting to be an old fool, and ought to have somebody to look after me!'
"I saw that Louis was ashamed of the mistake he had made, but I was so thankful to be safe that I paid little heed to what he said. The next day he rode down to the Big Sugar Creek, sure enough, to identify the slain, as he said. When he came back, a couple of hours later, he was in high good-humour.
"'I shall not be afraid to tell the story against myself now,' he said. 'What do you think I found in the stump?'
"'What did you find?' asked I, full of interest in this, the only highwayman I ever met.
The Last Laugh
"'Sixteen bullet-holes! You see, there have been other fools as great as myself, but they were ashamed of their folly and kept it dark. I shall tell mine abroad and have the last laugh at all events.'"