ethan durrell may have been verdant-looking and peculiar in his ways, but he was one of the pluckiest of men. it was impossible for him to know whether the scamp who held up the stage had any companions or not, until the matter was proven by taking a risk which, if he went the wrong way, was sure to be fatal. with this uncertainty, and without so much as a single weapon at his command, he leaped upon the unsuspecting ruffian, and, throwing both arms around his neck, bore him to the ground.

the attack was wholly unexpected by the fellow, who was standing with loaded revolver pointed toward the stage, ready to fire on the instant he observed anything suspicious. it was necessary for the new englander to spring down from the front of the coach, but every one except himself thought his intention was to land in front of the other and there submit to the inevitable. the quavering voice of durrell had convinced his friends that he was as timid as any of them in the presence of real danger.

he closed his arms like a vise, so as to pinion those of the stranger against his sides. the impetus of his own body drove the man backward, and before he could recover ethan tripped and threw him with such violence that his hat fell off and an exclamation was forced from him.

he uttered fierce execrations and strove desperately to get his arm free that he might use his weapon on his assailant, but there was no possibility of shaking off the embrace of the wiry new englander, who hung on like grim death.

“bill, you and the boys watch out for the other fellers,” called durrell, as he struggled with the man; “if any of them show themselves, shoot! i’ll ’tend to this one.”

at this moment the rogue seemed to remember his friends, and he called:

“quick, sam! shoot him! don’t miss! let him have it!”

even in that excitement ethan noticed that the fellow’s appeal was to “sam” instead of the imaginary “dick,” whom he first addressed. the suspicion that he was alone was strengthened, and the daring new englander put forth all his power to subdue him.

“it’s no use! i’ve got you and i’m going for you like two houses afire. stand back, bill, and don’t interfere; if i can’t bring him to terms, then i’m going to resign and climb a tree.”

everything was going like a whirlwind. although bill lenman preferred on such occasions as the present to be a non-combatant, he was not the one to stay idle when a friend risked his life for him. he threw the lines over the horses’ backs and sprang down to give what help he could; but in the darkness it was hard to decide in what way he could aid the other. it was evident that durrell was pushing matters with vigor, and there was no doubt that he expected to bring the rogue to terms.

but it was easy for one in ethan’s situation to be mistaken. as long as the fellow kept his pistol, the new englander’s life was in danger. bill stooped over with the intention of twisting away the weapon, but at the moment of doing so it was discharged, apparently at the driver himself, for the bullet grazed his temple.

finding himself unable to turn the pistol on his assailant, the ruffian saw a chance of deflecting the muzzle sufficiently to hit the new-comer, as he thought, and he fired, missing him by the narrowest margin conceivable.

before he could fire again a vigorous kick of the driver sent the weapon flying off in the darkness.

“keep your hands off!” called durrell, the moment he discovered his friend was near him; “i can manage him alone. if you want to do anything get ready to tie him.”

that was an easy matter, for stage-drivers are always supplied with extras, and a little skill will enable one to get along without a few straps already in use.

durrell found his customer tough and powerful. he held him fast for some seconds, but he seemed as tireless as his assailant, and the contest would have been prolonged with the possibility of the fellow working himself loose and darting off among the trees; but fully mindful of this danger, the new englander had recourse to heroic measures.

he tightened his grip on the fellow’s throat until he gasped for breath. this was repeated to the danger point, though the man continued to struggle as long as he had the power.

but durrell had no wish to punish him beyond what was necessary. he now called to the driver that he could give some help if he wished. bill appeared to be bristling with straps and ropes, and was eager to do something, for, truth to tell, he felt ashamed that, after all he had said to the new englander, the latter had attacked the fellow so bravely, while until this moment the one chiefly concerned had given no help at all. he was anxious to make amends.

reading the purpose of his captors and knowing that if bound all help was at an end, the robber struggled like a wild cat. he fought, kicked, struck, bit, and shouted to his friends to come to his help, addressing them by names without number, but all in vain; he could not have been more helpless if enclosed by a regiment of men. bill lenman was skilled in tying knots, and in less time than it would be supposed the prisoner was so firmly bound that he resembled a mummy, so far as the use of his limbs was concerned.

the moment came when he gave up in despair. he saw the game was over, and it was throwing away his strength to resist further. while he had been so ready with speech, he ceased all utterances when the first knot was secured between his elbows, and resolutely refused to utter another word.

“what are you going to do with him?” asked lenman, as they stood him like a post on his feet.

“what are we going to do with him? why, take him to piketon, of course, and deliver him to justice!”

“i know that,” replied bill, with a laugh, “but i was thinking whether it was best to stow him under the seats or strap him with the trunks on behind; he might enjoy riding with that box.”

“no; we’ll take him inside with us; some of the straps might give way and we would want to be within reach of him. where’s them boys?” asked durrell, abruptly; “i forgot all about them while this business was going on.”

the attack and capture of the would-be stage robber consumed very little time, but it gave a chance to our young friends which they quickly turned to good account. they saw but one possible result of the affair, and concluded to make a change of base. it could not be doubted that they had done so, since neither was within sight or call.

lenman had paid no attention to them, and it cannot be said that he regretted their absence. true, their fare remained uncollected, but that was not the first time he had carried passengers free, and he could stand it again.

the prisoner was deposited with as much care on the middle seat of the stage as though he were a package of dynamite. durrell placed himself behind him where he could forestall any movement on his part. it would not be supposed that there was any chance of anything of that kind, but durrell had read and heard enough of such people to understand the danger of trusting to appearances. the exploits of some of the gentry in the way of tying and untying knots would rival the davenport brothers and other so-called “mediums.” then, too, durrell thought, he might have other weapons about him, for no search had been made of his garments. anyway, it cannot be doubted that the new englander was wise in maintaining such a vigilant watch of the fellow.

despite this exciting incident, which threw bill lenman’s nerves into a more turbulent state than for years, he could not help smiling as he listened to the efforts of the new englander to open conversation with the prisoner. durrell’s curiosity was of the kind that it could not be kept in the background. he was interested in the man and was resolved to learn more about him.

he began in his insinuating way to inquire as to his name, how long he had been in this bad business, what led him to make such a dreadful mistake, where he was born, whether his parents were living, how many brothers and sisters he had, and so on with a list of questions which no one could remember.

but the prisoner never once opened his mouth. he saw nothing was to be gained by so doing, and, though it is not to be supposed he would have told the truth, he did not trouble himself to state fiction.

at the moment of emerging from black bear swamp, lenman was alarmed by being hailed by a stranger who asked for a ride. this was unusual, for he was now so close to piketon that the walk would not have taxed any one.

durrell whispered to the driver to refuse to take him up, for no doubt he was a confederate of the prisoner; but lenman thought it more dangerous to refuse than to comply. he therefore checked his team, and told the applicant that the town was near by and he was about to indulge in a needless expense; but the stranger cared naught for that, and hastily climbed up in front and seated himself beside the driver, who peered at him as best he could in the gloom, but was unable to make out his features.

“if he tries any tricks,” said lenman to himself, “i’ll neck him before he knows it; after that chap from new england showed such pluck i aint going to back out of the next rumpus.”

evidently the driver felt the force of the example, for he kept a close eye on the stranger. besides this, he thought the occasion warranted a little extra urging of the horses, and he put them to the briskest trot they had shown since leaving belmar.

ethan durrell, as may be supposed, was fully as anxious as the driver, for he was almost certain the man in front was a friend of the prisoner, and if so, there was little to prevent a rescue, since, as i have shown, neither durrell nor lenman was armed.

the relief, therefore, was great when the lights of the little town glimmered through the darkness, and shortly after the stage came to a halt in front of the old-fashioned inn, where it had stopped regularly for so many years.

the passenger last picked up, there was reason to believe, had never seen the rogue before. the latter may be dismissed with the remark that, having been caught in the commission of his crime, he received full and merited punishment therefor.