“Mr. Two shots were fired at him by Jonathan; one of which passed through his hat, and the other through the fleshy part of his arm; but he made good his retreat. Each of my scholars thinks it his own shirt. "'Sdeath!" cried Jonathan, staring at the breach in the wall. ’ ‘Well, I am glad he did not,’ intervened Lucilla, forestalling another withering comment from the captain. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. On beholding the intruders, his fears changed to exultation, and he uttered a roar of satisfaction as he glared at them, which could only be likened to the cry of some savage denizen of the plains. .
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