his arguments were irresistible.  The jurors started up in their box, and roared out, to a man, “Not guilty!” From that moment, it may be supposed, Roaring Ralph could steal horses at his pleasure.  Nevertheless, it seems, he immediately lost his appetite for horse-flesh; and leaving the land altogether, he betook himself to a more congenial element, launched his broad-horn on the narrow bosom of the Salt, and was soon afterwards transformed into a Mississippi alligator; in which amphibious condition, we presume, he roared on to the day of his death.

As for the valiant Nathan Slaughter—­the last of the list of worthies, after whom the young Virginian so often inquired—­less was discovered in relation to his fate than that of the others.  A month, or more, perhaps, after Roland’s departure, he re-appeared at Bruce’s Station, where he was twice or thrice again seen.  But, whether it was that, as we have once before hinted, he found the cheers and hearty hurrahs, in token of respect for his valiant deeds at Wenonga’s town, with which Bruce’s people received him, more embarrassing and offensive than the flings and sarcasms with which they used in former days to greet his appearance, or whether he had some still more stirring reason for deserting the neighbourhood, it is certain that he, in a short time, left the vicinity of Salt River altogether, going no man knew whither.  He went, and with him his still inseparable friend, little dog Peter.

From that moment the Jibbenainosay ceased to frequent his accustomed haunts in the forest; the phantom Nick of the Woods was never more beheld stalking through the gloom; nor was his fearful cross ever again seen traced on the breast of a slaughtered Indian.