"Tut, tut, Jem," I said, "you should n't speak like that. Any way we 'll hear the rest another time."
"That 's what I called them, sir," said Jem, turning to me with surprise, "you surely would not have me tell an untruth."
"I would n't have you tell anything. Keep quiet. Father Donovan is not interested in your recital."
"I beg your pardon, O'Ruddy," said Father Donovan, looking at me reproachfully; "but I am very much interested in this man's narrative."
"As any good man should be," continued Jem, "for these were arrant scoundrels; one of them I knew, and his name is Doctor Chord. He fell off his horse on the roadway at once and pleaded for mercy. I ordered the others instantly to hold their hands above their heads, and they did so, except one man who began fumbling in his holster, and then, to show him what I could do with a pistol, I broke his wrist. At the sound of the shot the horses began to plunge, nearly trampling Doctor Chord into the dust.
"'Clasp your hands above your heads, ye'"
Here went on another stream of terrible language again, and in despair I sat down on the pile of saddles, allowing things to take their course. Jem continued:
"The lesson of the pistol was not misread by my gentlemen, when they noticed I had a second loaded one; so, going to them one after the other I took their weapons from them and flung them to the foot of that tree, where, if you look, you may see them now. Then I took a contribution from each one, just as you do in church, your Reverence. I 'm sure you have a collection for the poor, and that was the one I was taking up this day. I have not counted them yet," said the
