A Fatal CrisisEach at the life

Levelled his deadly aim; their fatal hands
No second stroke intended.--MILTON.

"Hold! on your lives!" exclaimed Lyon Berners, rushing between the
opponents, and with swift hands striking up the pistol of Robert Munson,
and turning aside the musket of Farmer Nye. "Would you shed each
other's blood so recklessly? Here is some mistake. Farmer, whom did you
take us for?"

"Who did I take you for, is it? For that cornsarned band of robbers as
have been mislesting the country for miles round this month past."

"Robbers?"

"Yes, robbers! as has been tarryfying the whole country side ever since
Hollow Eve!"

"I never heard of them."

"May be you didn't, but I took you for them all the same."

"And aimed your musket at that lady! And might have shot her dead, had
not this brave man thrown himself before her, with a loaded pistol in
his hand, levelled at your heart."

"How did I know it was a lady? How could I see in this dim light? I took
her for one of you, and I took you all for robbers," said the farmer,
sulkily.

"Well, you see who we are now?"

"Yes; I see as you are my new lodgers. Though why you should be out here
at the stables after your beasts at this hour of the night, and wake me
up with a row; or should take my darter's side-saddle, and kill my
watch-dog, blame you, I don't see!" growled the farmer.

"Come, walk aside with me for a few minutes, and I will show you why,"
said Mr. Berners, soothingly laying his hand on the farmer's shoulder.