“Good heavens!  Mr. Fairfax, what do you mean?”

“Colonel Preston,” said the adventurer, “I want all the money you have about you.  I know you have a considerable sum, for you have yourself acknowledged it.”

“Why,” exclaimed Colonel Preston, startled, “this is highway robbery.”

“Precisely!” said Fairfax, bowing mockingly.  “You have had the honor of riding with a highwayman.  Will you be good enough to give me the money at once?  I am in haste.”

“Surely, this is a joke, Mr. Fairfax.  I have heard of such practical jokes before.  You are testing my courage.  I am not in the least frightened.  Jump in the chaise again, and we will proceed.”

“That’s a very kind way of putting it,” said Fairfax, coolly; “but not correct.  I am no counterfeit, but the genuine article.  Fairfax is not my name.  I won’t tell you what it is, for it might be inconvenient.”

No man can look with equanimity upon the prospect of losing money, and Colonel Preston may be excused for not wishing to part with his eight hundred dollars.  But how could he escape?  He had no pistol, and Fairfax held the horse’s bridle in a strong grasp.  If he could only parley with him till some carriage should come up, he might save his money.  It seemed the only way, and he resolved to try it.

“Mr. Fairfax,” he said, “if you are really what you represent, I hope you will consider the natural end of such a career.  Turn, I entreat you, to a more honest course of life.”

“That may come some time,” said Fairfax; “but at present my necessities are too great.  Oblige me by producing your pocketbook.”

“I will give you one hundred dollars, and keep the matter a secret from all.  That will be better than to expose yourself to the penalty of the law.”

“Colonel Preston, a hundred dollars will not satisfy me.  You have eight hundred dollars with you, and I shall not leave this spot till it is transferred to my possession.”

“If I refuse?”

“You will subject me to the unpleasant alternative of blowing your brains out,” said the other, coolly.

“You surely would not be guilty of such a crime, Mr. Fairfax?” said Colonel Preston, with a shudder.

“I would rather not.  I have no desire to take your life, but I must have that money.  If you prefer to keep your money, you will compel me to the act.  You’ll gain nothing, for in that case I shall take both—­your life first, and your money afterward.”

“And this is the man with whom I dined, and with whom, a few moments since, I was conversing freely!” thought Colonel Preston.

The adventurer became impatient.

“Colonel Preston,” he said, abruptly, “produce that money instantly, or I will fire.”

There was no alternative.  With reluctant hand the colonel drew out his pocketbook, and was about to hand it with its contents to the highwayman, when there was a sudden crash in the bushes behind Fairfax, his pistol was dashed from his hand, and our young hero, Andy Burke, with resolute face, stood with his gun leveled at him.  All happened so quickly that both Colonel Preston and Fairfax were taken by surprise, and the latter, still retaining his hold upon the bridle, stared at the young hero, who had so intrepidly come between him and his intended victim.