Of Ralph Stackpole, the invader of Indian horse-pounds, it was Captain Forrester’s fortune to obtain more minute, though, we are sorry to say, scarce more satisfactory intelligence.  The luck, good and bad together, which had distinguished Roaring Ralph, in all his relations with Roland, never, it seems, entirely deserted him.  His improvident, harum-scarum habits had very soon deprived him of all the advantages that might have resulted from the soldier’s munificent gift, and left him a landless good-for-nothing, yet contented vagabond as before.  With poverty returned sundry peculiar propensities which he had manifested in former days; so that Ralph again lost savour in the nostrils of his acquaintance; and the last time that Forrester heard of him, he had got into a difficulty in some respects similar to that in the woods of Salt River from which Roland, at Edith’s intercession, had saved him.  In a word, he was one day arraigned before a county-court in Kentucky, on a charge of horse-stealing, and matters went hard against him, his many offences in that line having steeled the hearts of all against him, and the proofs of guilt, in this particular instance, being both strong and manifold.  Many an angry and unpitying eye was bent upon the unfortunate fellow, when his counsel rose to attempt a defence;—­which he did in the following terms:  “Gentlemen of the Jury,” said the man of law,—­“here is a man, Captain Ralph Stackpole, indicted before you on the charge of stealing a horse; and the affa’r is pretty considerably proved on him.”—­Here there was a murmur heard throughout the court, evincing much approbation of the counsel’s frankness.  “Gentlemen of the Jury,” continued the orator, elevating his voice, “what I have to say in reply, is, first, that that man thar’, Captain Ralph Stackpole, did, in the year seventeen seventy-nine, when this good State of Kentucky, and particularly those parts adjacent to Bear’s Grass, and the mouth thereof, where now stands the town of Louisville, were overrun with yelping Injun-savages,—­did, I say, gentlemen, meet two Injun-savages in the woods on Bear’s Grass, and take their scalps, single-handed—­a feat, gentlemen of the jury, that a’n’t to be performed every day, even in Kentucky!” Here there was considerable tumult in the court, and several persons began to swear.  “Secondly, gentlemen of the jury,” exclaimed the attorney-at-law, with a still louder voice, “what I have to say, secondly, gentlemen of the jury, is, that this same identical prisoner at the bar, Captain Ralph Stackpole, did, on another occasion, in the year seventeen eighty-two, meet another Injun-savage in the woods—­a savage armed with rifle, knife, and tomahawk—­and met him with—­you suppose, gentlemen, with gun, axe, and scalper, in like manner!—­No, gentlemen of the jury!—­with his fists, and” (with a voice of thunder) “licked him to death in the natural way!—­Gentlemen of the jury, pass upon the prisoner—­guilty or not guilty?” The attorney resumed his seat: