Ned picked himself up unhurt, and looked back in horror. He saw Vere stumble up from beside his dead horse, and run a few steps, then fall again, brought down by a sharpshooter's bullet. Many of the scattered Americans were sheltering in the woods. Only remembering the old schoolboy friendship, Ned crept from stump to stump, till he was crouching by Vere in the slender cover of a pile of brushwood. Vere's face was drawn, and his eyes, wild with fear, stared at Ned as he spoke in panting jerks--"I'm dying, Ned." "You're not dying, Vere," said Ned, as he skilfully bandaged the wound. It was in the leg, dangerously near a large artery. Ned knew it needed better attention than he could give, but how was Vere to be got to Half-moon Fort, across the common swept by the enemy's fire? Ned knelt down, managed to get Vere on his back, and praying the bandage might not slip, stepped out boldly. Very slowly he walked along beside the forest in whose shades Death crouched, but with American chivalry no man fired, and they reached Half-moon in safety. There Ned was hailed by Archy. "Hello, didn't know what had become of you. We've got to get out of here. The women from the Palace are in town--Mrs. Haslem and Miss Bee are at your place and the Yankees won't hurt anything in petticoats; Sheaffe and the regulars, and the wounded in wagons, are making tracks for the Don bridge, and as the Yankees won't take the militia prisoners, if they come in and give their parole, he says we can do as we like. You can bet your sweet life I ain't going to give no parole, but I'm not going to Kingston with Sheaffe either. I'm off to the bush till I can find a general who does things, but it'll be all right for you to look after your redcoat friend." So the very independent militia captain went off, with most of his companions, to look for a commander they approved of. Ned meanwhile found a surgeon, and helped put Vere in the last of the hurrying wagons, that took the wounded past sullen little York, and crossing the Don bridge, plunged into the woods along the Quebec Road (Kingston Highway). Vere sat up and held out his hand to Ned as the wagon reached the Don, for Ned was one of the rear guard who were to fire the bridge, after the retreating party had crossed. They did this, and Ned managed to be left on the Toronto side of the river. Then he made for the woods behind York, hoping to find his sagacious, ungrammatical captain.