“Now,” said Andy, triumphantly, with the gun over his shoulder, and presenting the pistol, “lave here mighty quick, or I’ll shoot ye.”

“Give me back the pistol, then,” said the discomfited ruffian.

“I guess not,” said Andy.

“It’s my property.”

“I don’t know that.  Maybe you took it from some thraveler.”

“Give it to me, and I’ll go off peaceably.”

“I won’t take no robber’s word,” said Andy.  “Are you goin’?”

“Give me the pistol.  Fire it off, if you like.”

“That you may load it again.  You don’t catch a weasel asleep,” answered Andy, shrewdly.  “I’ve a great mind to make you march into the village, and give you up to the perlice.”

This suggestion was by no means pleasant for the highwayman, particularly as he reflected that Andy had shown himself a resolute boy, and doubly armed as he now was, it was quite within his power to carry out his threat.

“Don’t fire after me,” he said.

“I never attack an inimy in the rare,” said Andy, who always indulged in the brogue more than usual under exciting circumstances.

I make this explanation, as the reader may have noticed a difference in his dialect at different times.

“We shall meet again, boy!” said Fairfax, menacingly, turning at the distance of a few feet.

“Thank you, sir.  You needn’t thrubble yourself,” said Andy, “I ain’t anxious to mate you.”

“When we do meet, you’ll know it,” said the other.

“Maybe I will.  Go along wid ye!” said Andy, pointing the pistol at him.

“Don’t shoot,” said Fairfax, hastily, and he quickened his pace to get out of the way of a dangerous companion.

Andy laughed as the highwayman disappeared in the distance.

“I thought he wouldn’t wait long,” he said.

“Andy,” said Colonel Preston, warmly, “you have behaved like a hero.”

“I’m only an Irish boy,” said Andy, laughing.  “Shure, they don’t make heroes of such as I.”

“I don’t care whether you are Irish or Dutch.  You are a hero for all that.”

“Shure, sir, it’s lucky I was round whin that spalpeen wanted to rob you.”

“How did you happen to be out with a gun this afternoon?”

“I got my work all done, and Miss Grant said I might go out shootin’ if I wanted.  Shure, I didn’t expect it ’ud been robbers I would be afther shootin’.”

“You came up just in the nick of time.  Weren’t you afraid?”

“I didn’t stop to think of that when I saw that big blackguard p’intin’ his pistol at you.  I thought I’d have a hand in it myself.”

“Jump into the chaise, Andy, and ride home with me.”

“What, wid the gun?”

“To be sure.  We won’t leave the gun.  That has done us too good service already to-day.”

“I’ve made something out of it, anyway,” said Andy, displaying the pistol, which was silver-mounted, and altogether a very pretty weapon.  “It’s a regular beauty,” he said, with admiration.