Oliver, whose eyes had flashed like those of a tiger, drew himself up, and said— “Look at me, lads; I have no desire to boast of what I can or will do, but I assure you it would be as easy to turn back the rising tide as to force me to fight against my will—except, indeed, with yourselves. As I have said, I owe my life to your leader, and apparently have been the innocent means of drawing his enemies upon him. Gratitude tells me to help him if I can, and help him will if the cause be not a bad one.”

“Well spoken, sur,” said the leader, with an approving nod; “see to the weapons, Maggot, and I’ll explain it all to the gentleman.”

So saying, he too Oliver aside, told him hurriedly that the men who ere expected to attack them were fishermen belonging to a neighbouring cove, whose mackerel nets had been accidentally cut by his boat some weeks ago, and who were bent on revenge, not believing that the thing had been done by accident.

“But surely you don’t mean to use fire-arms against them in such a quarrel?” said Oliver.

A sort of humorous smile crossed the swarthy countenance of the man as he replied—

“They will use pistols against we.”

“Be that as it may,” said Oliver; “I will never consent to risk taking the life of a countryman in such a cause.”

“But you can’t fight without a weapon,” said the man; “and sure, if ’ee don’t shut them they’ll shut you.”

“No matter, I’ll take my chance,” said Oliver; “my good cudgel would have served me well enough, but it seems to have been swept away by the sea. Here, however, is a weapon that will suit me admirably,” he added, picking up a heavy piece of driftwood that lay at his feet.

“Well, if you scat their heads with that, they won’t want powder and lead,” observed the other with a grin, as he rose and returned to the entrance of the cave, where he warned his comrades to keep as quiet as mice.

The boat which had caused so much angry discussion among the men of the cave had by this time neared the beach, and one of the crew stood up in the bow to guide her into the narrow cove, which formed but a slight protection, even in calm weather, against the violence of that surf which never ceases to grind at the hard rocks of West Cornwall. At length they effected a landing, and the crew, consisting of nine men armed with pistols and cutlasses, hurried up to the cliffs and searched for the entrance to the cavern.

While the events which have been related were taking place, the shades of evening had been gradually creeping over land and sea, and the light was at that time scarcely sufficient to permit of things being distinguished clearly beyond a few yards. The men in the cavern hid themselves in the dark recesses on each side of the entrance, ready for the approaching struggle.

Oliver crouched beside his rescuer with the piece of driftwood by his side. Turning suddenly to his companion, he said, in an almost inaudible whisper—

“Friend, it did not occur to me before, but the men we are about to fight with will recognise me again if we should ever chance to meet; could I not manage to disguise myself in some way?”

“If you get shut,” replied his companion in the same low tone, “it won’t matter much; but see here—shut your eyes.”

Without further remark the man took a handful of wet earth and smeared it over Oliver’s face, then, clapping his own “sou’-wester” on his head, he said, with a soft chuckle, “There, your own mother wouldn’t knaw ’ee!”

Just then footsteps were heard approaching, and the shadow of a man was seen to rest for a moment on the gravel without. The mouth of the cave was so well hidden, however, that he failed to observe it, and passed on, followed by several of his comrades. Suddenly one of them stopped and said—

“Hold on, lads, it can’t be far off, I’m sartin’ sure; I seed ’em disappear hereabouts.”

“You’re right,” cried Jim Cuttance, with a fierce roar, as he rushed from the cavern and fired full at the man who had spoken. The others followed, and a volley of shots succeeded, while shouts of defiance and anger burst forth on all sides. Oliver sprang out at the same moment with the leader, and rushed on one of the boat’s crew with such violence that his foot slipped on a piece of seaweed and precipitated him to the ground at the man’s feet; the other, having sprung forward to meet him was unable to check himself, tripped over his shoulders, and fell on the top of him. The man named Maggot, having been in full career close behind Oliver, tumbled over both, followed by another man named John Cock. The others, observing them down, rushed with a shout to the rescue, just as Oliver, making a superhuman effort, flung the two men off his back and leaped to his feet. Maggot and the boatman also sprang up, and the latter turned and made for the boat at full speed, seeing that his comrades, overcome by the suddenness of the onset, were in retreat, fighting as they went.

All of them succeeded in getting into the boat unharmed, and were in the act of pushing off, when Jim Cuttance, burning with indignation, leaped into the water, grasped the bow of the boat, and was about to plunge his cutlass into the back of the man nearest him, when he was seized by a strong hand from behind and held back. Next moment the boat was beyond his reach.

Turning round fiercely, the man saw that it was Oliver Trembath who had interfered. He uttered a terrible oath, and sprang on him like a tiger; Oliver stood firm, parried with the piece of driftwood the savage cut which was made at his head, and with his clenched left hand hit his opponent such a blow on the chest as laid him flat on the sand. The man sprang up in an instant, but instead of renewing the attack, to Oliver’s surprise he came forward and held out his hand, which the youth was not unwilling to grasp.

“Thank ’ee, sur,” he said, somewhat sternly, “you’ve done me a sarvice; you’ve prevented me committin’ two murders, an’ taught me a lesson I never knaw’d afore—that Jim Cuttance an’t invulnerable. I don’t mind the blow, sur—not I. It wor gov’n in feer fight, an’ I was wrang.”

“I’m glad to find that you view the matter in that light,” said Oliver with a smile, “and, truly, the blow was given in self-defence by one who will never forget that he owes you his life.”

A groan here turned the attention of the party to one of their number who had seated himself on a rock during the foregoing dialogue.

“What! not hurt, are ’ee, Dan?” said his leader, going towards him.

To this Dan replied with another groan, and placed his hand on his hip.

His comrades crowded round him, and, finding that he was wounded and suffering great pain, raised him in their arms and bore him into the cavern, where they laid him on the ground, and, lighting a candle, proceeded to examine him.

“You had better let me look at him, lads,” said Oliver, pushing the men gently aside, “I am a surgeon.”

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