" Almost the identical words of the boy. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. Hurled over the sides of the skiff, the ruffian speedily found a watery grave. Even this man-hunting machine was willing to grant the boy his honeymoon. He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being.
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