in Collingwood, the travelling powers of which he knew.  To that stall he went, and braced himself against the partition for a spring, after he had loosed the halter, and slipped on a bit and bridle.  He backed his steed out, turned in the passage way and made for the door.  Another moment and he would be free.  No horse in the stable, even if saddled and bridled, would be able to overtake him, once he was on the road.  But, at the door he met an obstacle in the shape of a mountain of straw, that caused the horse to back.  The desperate man dug his knees into the flanks of the beast, and urged it on.  Down went the straw mountain, and the luckless Timotheus beneath it, and Newcome rained a few exultant curses on him, as he forced his steed; when a well-dressed negro sprang up from nowhere, and, seizing the rein nearest him, spoke to the intelligent animal, and backed it to one side.  In a moment Timotheus wriggled himself unhurt out of the litter, and, by main force, pulled the escaped prisoner down; while Mr. Maguffin remarked that “hoss thieves ain’t pumculiah ter no paht of the habitatable yeth.”

Newcome squirmed and fought as well as he was able, but to no avail.  Timotheus was simple and he was clumsy, but he was no weakling.  Maguffin led the horse back into the stable, spread his litter, and replaced the bridle on the wall.  Then he came out quite unruffled, and asked Timotheus if he would like him to use his new boots on the prisoner, to which that worthy replied with a grin:  “I guess I’ve pooty nigh parlyzed his laigs to stop his wrastlin’ tricks aready.”  Sylvanus, in a lucid moment, remembered his charge, and found the bird had flown.  He came out to look for his Bible-loving friend, dreading the Captain’s wrath, and great was his relief when he found him a victim in the strong arms of his brother.  “Here, Sylvanus, you hold him, so’s the Square’ll think t’was you as cotched him,” said the unselfish Timotheus.  So Sylvanus, nothing loath, seized the hypocrite, and Timotheus went for the Squire, while Maguffin looked calmly on, occasionally glancing at his heavy-soled new boots, as if regretting that there was no immediate call for their services.  The Squire was angry, for he had been kind to the old sinner; but he saw that the prisoner was an element of weakness in the house.  What was to hinder him escaping again, committing murder, setting the place on fire?  He called up Toner.  “Ben,” he said, “how long would it take you to convey Newcome to his home in a farm waggon with a good team?” “Ef the teeum’s smart, I guaiss an houer ’ud do,” answered the prospective son-in-law of the victim.  Accordingly a springless waggon was produced, some straw thrown in, and Newcome securely bound with ropes, lying flat on his back, with his own coat and a sack or two put under his head for a pillow.  “Timotheus,” continued Mr Carruthers, “you had better go with Ben.  Take your guns, both of you, and bring them back as quick as you can.”  Off started the ambulance,