from under the hay, put a pistol to her head, and threatened her with instant death if she did not drive on, which she was thus forced to do. After crossing the river, he had jumped out at the first bend of the road, and she had no idea what had become of him.
Even the brigadier seemed to have his doubts about the entire truth of Ann's story; but Tregenna, who knew it was a tissue of falsehoods, said nothing. He perceived already that General Hambledon's precious plan of "getting hold of the women, my boy," only had the result of letting the women get hold of him.
Then there came a lull in the excitement of the times. Ben the Blast had disappeared from the neighborhood, without Tregenna's having been able to identify him with the owner of the blood-stained knife. There were no more raids; there were no more discoveries, things seemed to have settled down, and it appeared impossible to suspect the peaceful-looking carters and plowmen who went stolidly about their work in the fields, looking as placid and unenterprising as their own oxen, of having had any hand in the lawless practises
