grew cooler, and she said to her uncle: "Let us go back to
the toll-gate; it must be perfectly beautiful there now, with the
mountains putting on their gold and red."

So they started for home, planning for a stop in Washington on their
way.

Brightness and people were coming back to Washington. The air was
cooler, and city life was stirring. Olive and her uncle stayed several
days longer than they had intended; as most people do who visit
Washington. On one of these days as they were returning to their hotel
from the Smithsonian grounds, where they had been looking at autumn
leaves from all quarters of this wide land; many of them unknown to
them; they looked with interest from the shaded grounds on one side of
the street to the great public building on the other side, which they
were then passing, and at the broad steps ascending from the sidewalk to
the basement floor.

As they moved on thus slowly they noticed a man standing upon the upper
steps of one of these stairs. His back was toward them; and, as their
eyes fell upon him he stepped upon the upper sidewalk. He was walking
with a cane which seemed to be rather short for him. He stood still for
a moment, and appeared to be waiting for some one. Then, suddenly his
whole frame thrilled with nervous action; he slightly lowered his head,
and, in an instant, he brought his cane to his shoulder, as if it had
been a gun. The captain had seen that sort of thing before. It was an
air-gun. Without a word he made a dash at the man. He was elderly, but
in a case like this he was swift. As he ran he glanced out in the
direction in which the gun was aimed. Along the broad, sunlighted avenue
a barouche was passing. On the back seat sat two gentlemen,
well-dressed, erect. Even in a flash one would notice an air of dignity
in their demeanor.

There was not time to strike down the weapon, but before the man had
heard steps behind him the captain gave him a tremendous blow between
the shoulders which staggered him, and spoiled his aim. Then the captain
seized the air-gun. There was a whiz, and a click on the pavement. Then
the man turned.

His black eyes flashed out of a swarthy face nearly covered with beard;
his soft hat had fallen off when the captain struck him, and his black
hair stood up like bristles on a shoe-brush. He was not a large man; he
wore a loose woolen jacket; his sleeves were short, and his hands were
hairy.

All this Olive saw, for she had been quick to