rumbling in his very ear, exclaimed: “Ye bloody, murthering Quaker, I’ll have that ivory ball, or I’ll have your life!”
These words produced the same effect upon Jonathan as though a douche of cold water had suddenly been flung over him.
He began instantly to struggle to free himself, and that with a frantic and vehement violence begotten at once of terror and despair. So prodigious were his efforts that more than once he had nearly torn himself free, but still the powerful arms of his captor held him as in a vise of iron. Meantime, our hero’s assailant