CHAPTER X.
_A Curse._--_Plans of Revenge._ As Nat strode onward to his home, after leaving his companions, his mind was in a chaotic state of excitement and rage.

He was still smarting from the blows he had received, and the blood was flowing from his nostrils and lips.

He paid no heed to this, however, for there was murder in his heart, and already his plans of revenge were being formed--plans which fiends incarnate might well shrink from, and from the execution of which even demoniac natures would have recoiled in horror.
As he walked on, the dark, lowering clouds that had been gathering overhead, broke into a terrific storm of rain; the wind whistled and howled through the valleys, and from the mountain gorges the lightning flashed with a vividness almost appalling; but, undismayed by the storm and the tempest, which seemed at that time to accord with the emotions of his own wicked heart, Nat continued on his way, which lay past the unpretending, but comfortable farm-house, where, in the peace and contentment of a happy home, Henry Schulte dwelt with his parents.
As he reached a point in the road opposite the dwelling of his hated rival, and from the windows of which the lights were gleaming cheerily, Nat stopped, and, unmindful of the drenching rain, he shook his uplifted hand at the inoffensive abode, and, in a voice choking with rage, cried: "Curse you, Henry Schulte! Be on your guard, for if I live, you will know what it is to suffer for what you have done this night.

Enjoy yourself and your victory while you can, but there will come a time when you would rather be dead than the miserable thing I will make you.

Curse you! Curse you!" Having relieved the exuberance of his passion in this manner, he silently resumed his journey, and reaching his home retired at once to his room, and throwing himself upon the bed, he gave himself up to the devilish meditations which filled his mind.
Ah, Nat Toner, far better for you, for that happy village of Hagen, and for the future happiness of two loving hearts, if to-night the lightning's flash had sent its deadly stroke through your murderous heart and laid you lifeless upon the road.
As may be imagined, the news of the encounter between Henry Schulte and Nat Toner was noised about the village, and during the next day the matter became the universal theme of conversation.