" "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. Little Anna screamed and thrashed as she was torn from Lucy’s skirts. '" "No, we can't stand that," hiccupped Smith, scarcely able to keep his legs. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. ’ ‘Melusine,’ repeated the old lady. ” He was a little uneasy. ‘If you care for me at all, shoot me.
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