" "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. He never asked questions; he never addressed his companions; and frequently he took off his cap and wiped his forehead. Only Gwen left a letter on the pincushion. It was a tale of battle, murder, and sudden death on the New York waterfront. A moment afterwards, the street was illumined by a blaze of torchlight, and a tumultuous uproar, mixed with the clashing of weapons, and the braying of horns, announced the arrival of the first detachment of Minters. Jeremiah Jackson and Mr.
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