.

"Yes, there's two men coming up the path."

"They're after me," said the frightened Jim; "let me run out through the
back way; I can get away from them."

"You won't do any such thing," was the resolute reply of the old man,
while he compressed his lips, and his eyes flashed resolutely.

"This is _my_ home, and the law says it is my castle; and if any man
attempts to cross that threshold against my orders, on his head be the
consequences."

By way of making matters consistent, he stepped briskly into the next
room; and when he returned, which was in the course of three seconds, he
held a loaded double-barreled gun in his grasp.

"It's well to have something like this to sorter emphasize what you say,
you know--hello!"

The scoundrels were at the door, and a resounding knock was heard.

"Come in," called back the old man, who stood in the room, gun in hand.

Instead of opening the door, the criminals on the outside knocked again,
their evident purpose being to gain an advantage by bringing some one to
them.

"Come in!"

This was uttered in a tone that could be heard a hundred yards, and those
who were applying for admission could not pretend to be ignorant of such a
lusty welcome as that.

The latch was lifted, the door shoved inward, and there the two sailors
stood, each with a revolver in hand, looking into the room, but neither
venturing to step over the threshold.

We have stated where the farmer stood, and what his pose meant.

Tom Gordon was nearly recovered from his fractured leg, and he, too, had
risen from his chair with his pistol in hand. He told Jim to get as near
him--or rather behind him--as he could, and if there was to be any
shooting, why, he would take a hand.

The sailors could not fail to take in the fact that the three were on
their mettle, and something more than a summons was necessary to bring
them to terms.

"Well, what do you want?" asked the farmer, in a voice like a growl, while
he lowered upon them in the most ominous style.

"We want that boy," replied Bob, the sailor, pointing his pistol at the
fellow, whose heart beat a little faster when he found himself confronted
by such danger.

"Do you want to go with them?" asked the farmer of the boy.

"No; they mean to kill me; they've tried it already, and you can see that
my clothes are still wet from jumping into the river to swim away from
them."

"He belongs to us. We don't wish to hurt him; but he must go with us.