He took the fallen man's hand, and laid the arm in a natural position. It was broken. He then tried to lay his leg in its normal place, but there was something wrong; he could not tell what. And now he did what he might have been expected to do first, laid his hand upon the breast to try and find out if the injured man still lived. He started to his feet then with the cold perspiration bedewing his forehead, and gazing sharply round, he exclaimed: "I call Heaven to witness I never meant him harm." Then, throwing himself upon his knees, he began to examine the injured man once more, with feverish haste tearing open his shirt-front, laying his ear close to his lips, and ending by scooping up some clear water with both his hands from a little pool hard by, and dashing it in the prostrate man's face. "I little thought it would come to this. Rob--can you hear me? My God!" he groaned, "he must be dead." At that moment, to his great joy, the injured man moaned slightly, and, to Huish's great relief, at last opened his eyes, and gazed vacantly round. "Can you drink some of this?" said Huish eagerly, as he unscrewed the top of a small flask, and held it to the other's lips. Millet swallowed a few drops, and soon the vacant look passed from his eyes, and he groaned heavily. "Huish," he said hoarsely. "You've given me--my death-blow--hope first--now my life." "No, no--no, no!" exclaimed Huish. "Can you bear for me to leave you now? I'll run for help." "Stop," exclaimed Millet, making an effort to rise, and sinking back with a groan of agony. "Stop! come closer." Huish obeyed, and held the flask once more to his lips, but it was pushed aside. "Is this manslaughter or murder?" he said, with a bitter smile. "I protest to heaven," began Huish. "Hush! Listen! That poor girl--Mary--now--quick, at once--swear to me by all you hold sacred--you will--at once--make her your wife." Millet's face was ghastly pale, and he spoke with difficulty, but one hand now grasped the wrist of Huish with a firm hold, and his eyes were fixed upon those of the man who bent over him with feverish intensity. "Yes, yes, I will--on my soul, I will," cried Huish, with frantic vehemence. "Rob, old fellow, if I could undo--" "You cannot. Quick, man; swear it--you will marry her--at once." "I swear I will," cried Huish. "So help you God." "So help me, God!" exclaimed Huish, "and help me now," he added in agony, "for he is dying." "Here--below there--Hi!" shouted a voice from the pathway above. "What's the matter?" "Quick, quick, help!" cried Huish, and his appeal was answered by rapid footsteps, the rustling of bushes, and directly after, a short, broad-shouldered young man, with a large head and keen grey eyes, was at his side. "I say," he cried; "struggle up above, broken fence, man killed!" Huish started back, staring at him with dilated eyes, and then by an effort he exclaimed: "Quick--run--the nearest doctor, man."