"And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse, for it consarns a friend o' yours. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. ‘Who telled you that?’ ‘Do not ask me impertinent questions, but only go you and fetch this daughter here to me. " "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.
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