hives, I shall certainly
come and take them; and if Colonel Morton can kill me, he is welcome to
my ear-cap."

On the reception of this answer, the guard was doubled around the
state-house. Chosen sentinels were stationed along the road leading to
the capital, the military paraded the streets from morning till night,
and a select caucus held permanent session in the city hall. In short,
everything betokened a coming tempest.

One day, while matters were in this precarious condition, the caucus at
the city hall was surprised by the sudden appearance of a stranger,
whose mode of entering was as extraordinary as his looks and dress. He
did not knock at the closed door--he did not seek admission there at
all; but climbing, unseen, a small, bushy-topped, live oak, which grew
beside the wall, he leaped, without sound or warning, through a lofty
window. He was clothed altogether in buckskin, carried a long and heavy
rifle in his hand, wore at the button of his left suspender a large
bowie-knife, and had in his leathern belt a couple of pistols half the
length of his gun. He was tall, straight as an arrow, active as a
panther in his motions, with dark complexion, and luxuriant, jetty hair,
with a severe, iron-like countenance, that seemed never to have known a
smile, and eyes of intense, vivid black, wild and rolling, and piercing
as the point of a dagger. His strange advent inspired a thrill of
involuntary fear, and many present unconsciously grasped the handles of
their side-arms.

"Who are you, that thus presumes to intrude among gentlemen, without
invitation?" demanded Colonel Morton, ferociously essaying to cow down
the stranger with his eye.

The latter returned his stare with compound interest, and laid his long,
bony finger on his lip, as a sign--but of what, the spectators could
not imagine.

"Who are you? Speak! or I will cut an answer out of your heart!" shouted
Morton, almost distracted with rage, by the cool, sneering gaze of the
other, who now removed his finger from his lip, and laid it on the hilt
of his monstrous knife.

The fiery colonel then drew his dagger, and was in the act of advancing
upon the stranger, when several caught him and held him back,
remonstrating. "Let him alone, Morton, for God's sake. Do you not
perceive that he is crazy?"

At the moment, Judge Webb, a man of shrewd intellect and courteous
manners, stepped forward, and addressed the intruder in a most
respectful manner:

"My go