The doubt slackened my pace, and he gained on me.  Then I saw his intention.  There was a flat-bottomed wherry tied up by the bank, and for this he made.  He flung off the rope, seized a long pole, and began to push away.

The last rays of the westering sun fell on his face, and my hesitation vanished.  For those pent-house brows and deep-set, wild-cat eyes were fixed for ever in my memory.

I cried to him as I ran, but he never looked my road.  Somehow it was borne in on me that at all costs I must have speech with him.  The wherry was a yard or two from the shore when I jumped for its stern.

I lighted firm on the wood, and for a moment looked Muckle John in the face.  I saw a countenance lean like a starved wolf, with great weals as of old wounds on cheek and brow.  But only for a, second, for as I balanced myself to step forward he rammed the butt of the pole in my chest, so that I staggered and fell plump in the river.

The water was only up to my middle, but before I could clamber back he had shipped his oars, and was well into the centre of the stream.

I stood staring like a zany, while black anger filled my heart.  I plucked my pistol forth, and for a second was on the verge of murder, for I could have shot him like a rabbit.  But God mercifully restrained my foolish passion, and presently the boat and the rower vanished in the evening haze.

“This is a bonny beginning!” thought I, as I waded through the mud to the shore.  I was wearing my best clothes in honour of my arrival, and they were all fouled and plashing.

Then on the bank above me I saw the fellow who had run into me and hindered my catching Muckle John on dry land.  He was shaking with laughter.

I was silly and hot-headed in those days, and my wetting had not disposed me to be laughed at.  In this fellow I saw a confederate of Gib’s, and if I had lost one I had the other.  So I marched up to him and very roundly damned his insolence.

He was a stern, lantern-jawed man of forty or so, dressed very roughly in leather breeches and a frieze coat.  Long grey woollen stockings were rolled above his knees, and slung on his back was an ancient musket.

“Easy, my lad,” he said.  “It’s a free country, and there’s no statute against mirth.”

“I’ll have you before the sheriff,” I cried.  “You tripped me up when I was on the track of the biggest rogue in America.”

“So!” said he, mocking me.  “You’ll be a good judge of rogues.  Was it a runaway redemptioner, maybe?  You’d be looking for the twenty hogsheads reward.”

This was more than I could stand.  I was carrying a pistol in my hand, and I stuck it to his ear.  “March, my friend,” I said.  “You’ll walk before me to a Justice of the Peace, and explain your doings this night.”

I had never threatened a man with a deadly weapon before, and I was to learn a most unforgettable lesson.  A hand shot out, caught my wrist, and forced it upwards in a grip of steel.  And when I would have used my right fist in his face another hand seized that, and my arms were padlocked.