It was now half-past three. Putting up his
horse at the hotel, the lawyer partook of a hasty meal at a restaurant,
and returned in time to meet Bangs on the very threshold. "Whet ere you
doing here, Lawyer Coristine?" he asked.
"You will never guess, Mr. Bangs."
"Any more trebble et Bridesdele?"
"No, but I'll tell you; we've caught Rawdon."
"Why, the men's dead, berned to a cinder, you know."
"No, he is not; that was some other man."
"Ere you shore, Mr. Coristine?"
"Perfectly. Mr. Terry and Timotheus are bringing him here now."
"Whet, only the two of them, and kemming pest the Beaver too?"
"Yes; there were no more to send. I warned Pierre Lajeunesse to be on
the lookout."
"Is your beast fit to trevel eny more?"
"I think so; it seems a strong animal."
"Then get on hersebeck quick! Here, kensteble, hend me two betons, and a
kerbine!"
When the lawyer returned with his hard-ridden steed, he found Mr. Bangs
mounted, with a baton by his side and a carbine slung behind him. Off
they went along the shore and up the hill. Descending, they saw the
buggy approaching slowly in the neighbourhood of the Hills' log shanty,
attended by four persons who seemed to be armed.
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