"And what the devil does all this mean?" cried Richard, impatiently.
"Mean!" echoed Benjamin; "it's as true as the Boadishey's log-book"———
He was interrupted by the Sheriff, who put a few direct questions to him, that obtained more intelligible answers, by which means he became possessed of a tolerably correct idea of the truth. When the wonder, and, we must do Richard the justice to say, the feelings also, that were created by this narrative, had in some degree subsided, the Sheriff turned his eyes again on his journal, where more inexplicable hieroglyphics met his view.
"What have we here!" he cried; "two men boxing! has there been a breach of the peace? ah! that's the way, the moment my back is turned"———
"That's the Judge and young Master Edwards," interrupted the steward, very cavalierly.
"How! 'duke fighting with Oliver! what the devil has got into you all? more things have happened within the last thirty-six hours, than in the preceding six months."
"Yes, it's so indeed, Squire," returned the steward; "I've known a smart chase, and a fight at the tail of it, where less has been logged than I've got on that there slate. Howsomnever, they didn't come to facers, only passed a little jaw fore and aft."
"Explain! explain!" cried Richard—"it was about the mines, ha! ay, ay, I see it, I see it; here is a man with a pick on his shoulder. So you heard it all, Benjamin?"
"Why yes, it was about their minds, I believe, Squire," returned the steward; "and by what I can learn, they spoke them pretty plainly to one another. Indeed, I may say that I overheard a
