ad close by the bridge
as they drove up, but, as the man with the first team aimed a blow at
him with his whip, he drew back towards the fence. "Shoot the d----d
spy, boys," the ruffian cried to the fellows behind him, and, as they
slacked their speed, the lawyer jumped the fence to put some solid
obstacle between himself and their revolvers, which, he knew, they were
only too ready to use. At that moment a horseman rode towards the party
from the other side of the bridge, and, while aiming a blow with a stout
stick at the first scoundrel, a blow that was effectual, called to the
others, in a voice of authority, to put up their pistols "O Lord, boys,
it's Nash; drive on," called one, and they whipped up their patient
animals and rattled away in a desperate hurry. "You can come out now,
Mr. Coristine," said the horseman; "the coast is clear."

"You have the advantage of me, sir," remarked the lawyer, as he vaulted
back again into the road.

"No I have not," replied the other; "you called me a damnable scoundrel,
and threatened me with the penitentiary, a little while ago. How's
Toner?"

"I am obliged for your interference just now on my behalf, but must
decline any intercourse with one who has been guilty of what I regard as
most dishonourable conduct, profaning the sacred name of religion in
order to compass some imfamous private end."

"My ends, Mr. Coristine, are public, not private, nor are they infamous,
but for the good of the community and the individuals composing it. I
know your firm, Tylor, Woodruff and White, and your firm knows me,
Internal Revenue Detective Nash."

"What! are you the celebrated Mr. Nash of the Penetang Bush Raid?" asked
the lawyer, curiosity, and admiration of the man's skill and courage,
overcoming his aversion to the latest detective trick.

"The same at your service, and, as the best thing I can do for you is
to take you to your Inn, a dry way out of the dew, you can get on my
beast, and I'll walk for a rest," replied the detective, alighting.

Coristine was tired, so, after a little pressing, he accepted the mount,
and, of course, found it impossible to refuse his confidence to the man
whose horse he was riding.

"What did you do with your clerical garb?" he asked.

"Have it on," replied Nash; "it's a great make up. This coat of black
cord has a lot of turned up and turned down tag ends, the same with the
vest, and the soft hat can be knocked into any shape with a dift of the