"I told you we should meet with some of old Wright's folks," grumbled Bill, who was extended upon the ground, his hands secured behind his back.
"Yes, you scamp, I am 'old Wright,' as you termed me, and believe me, I never felt prouder of the name than at this moment, when I have helped rescue the women from your clutches, and feel that there is a chance of seeing you hanged."
"God be praised," cried Nancy; "we have met with Christians at last. When men speak of the gibbet, I know that they have served the Lord and will fight the devil. To-night you have fought four devils instead of one, and like angels have overcome them."
"Do you hear that, Bill? The old wench calls Wright an angel," exclaimed one of the scamps, turning his head towards his companion as well as he was able.
"If we had him on the mountain we would make an angel of him d——d quick, by singeing off his hair," replied the fellow addressed as Bill.
"Who is the woman by your side?" Mr. Brown asked Nancy.
"Ah, poor thing, she was on her way to the mines with her husband, when these devils set upon us, killed the men, and made us prisoners. If my old man had been there it wouldn't have happened, I know," was Nancy's confident reply.
"Why so?" I asked.
"Because he can lick half a dozen such cowards as these, and one glance of his eye would have been sufficient to have frightened them."
"That is so, Nance," laughed one of the prisoners; "he is frightfully cross-eyed, and as homely as a hedgehog."