. “This ain’t no place for you. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. That would be fun, eh?" "I wonder if you know how kind you are? You are like somebody out of a book. Gay," he added, turning to the poet. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. Perhaps her granddaughter might marry his grandson.
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