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Bob kept quiet. They tied his arms to his[196] sides with the lasso and then one of the men went over to the pony Bob had ridden and, putting a revolver to its head, fired. Bob realized that no matter how mean a citizen a cowboy might be, he would not let an animal suffer. The shot which had dismounted him had hit the pony in one of the hind legs and had broken it.,

The conversation had taken place as they climbed the hill to the Upper Town. Now, Mr. Whitney went off in the direction of his cottage, and Bob to the office.,

“Then the only thing to do is to put on extra watchmen and keep a sharp lookout for trouble among the Mexicans. I’ll see to it at once.” He started up as if to go out. Then, remembering Bob, he said, “You’ve done good work, Hazard. Sorry I was so grumpy when you came in. Take the remainder of the day off and rest up.”,

Bob paid no attention to this outburst, letting it go past his ears. Wesley’s voice from behind took up the refrain.

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Oh, but it was horrid, having to go along the streets with him! Nils should have his pay for getting them into this trouble! At the police station their names were recorded and then the boys were allowed to go. Johnny Blossom, shamefaced and troubled, ran straight home.,

“Yes, here he is,” piped a shrill, boyish voice from the doorway.,

“Well, you’d better take it back, then,” he said. “I hain’t slept on nothin’ but the old earth here for forty year and I reckon I won’t sleep on nothin’ else until I sleep in it. This here thing ain’t goin’ to do me no good.”,

Hippolitus, who had languished under a long and dangerous illness occasioned by his wounds, but heightened and prolonged by the distress of his mind, was detained in a small town in the coast of Calabria, and was yet ignorant of the death of Cornelia. He scarcely doubted that Julia was now devoted to the duke, and this thought was at times poison to his heart. After his arrival in Calabria, immediately on the recovery of his senses, he dispatched a servant back to the castle of Mazzini, to gain secret intelligence of what had passed after his departure. The eagerness with which we endeavour to escape from misery, taught him to encourage a remote and romantic hope that Julia yet lived for him. Yet even this hope at length languished into despair, as the time elapsed which should have brought his servant from Sicily. Days and weeks passed away in the utmost anxiety to Hippolitus, for still his emissary did not appear; and at last, concluding that he had been either seized by robbers, or discovered and detained by the marquis, the Count sent off a second emissary to the castle of Mazzini. By him he learned the news of Julia's flight, and his heart dilated with joy; but it was suddenly checked when he heard the marquis had discovered her retreat in the abbey of St Augustin. The wounds which still detained him in confinement, now became intolerable. Julia might yet be lost to him for ever. But even his present state of fear and uncertainty was bliss compared with the anguish of despair, which his mind had long endured.