“No, no! do you not see that Brother Stevens has no pistols? Did we not see him trying to escape—walking off—walking almost over the rocks to get out of the way?”
Calvert comprehended the matter much more clearly.
“Speak, sir!” he said to Stevens, “did you not come prepared to defend yourself?”
“You see me as I am,” said Stevens, showing his empty hands.
Calvert looked at him with searching eye.
“I understand you, sir,” he said, with an expression not to be mistaken; “I understand you now. THIS LAD I KNOW. HE COULD NOT BE A MURDERER. HE COULD NOT TAKE ANY MAN AT ADVANTAGE. If you do not know the fact, Mr. Stevens, I can assure you that your life was perfectly secure from his weapon, so long as his remained equally unendangered. The sight of that lake, from which he rescued you but a few days ago, should sufficiently have persuaded you of this.”
Stevens muttered something, the purport of which was, that “he did not believe the young man intended to murder him.”
“Did he not send you a challenge?”
“No!” said old Hinkley; “he sent him a begging note, promising atonement and repentance.”
“Will you let me see that note?” said Calvert, addressing Stevens.