"What o' Slough'it? What on him?" asked my mother. "I'll lay he's had a stroke. Aw told their Lucy only th' last time aw seed her he wor puttin' on flesh a deal too fast for a man o' his years." "Well it's noan a stroke, so tha'rt off thi horse this time, missus, choose how, an' so's Eastwood too, come to that." "Don't be so aggravating, Martha," said I. "If you've ought to tell, let's hear it." "Well, there's all maks o' tales dahn i' th' village, an' aw stopped to get th' reights on it, if aw could, for aw thowt it wer' no use bringing hauf a tale, an' it's little thanks aw get for my trouble. But there's justice i' Heaven, that's one comfort, for there's little on earth, certain sure. But as aw wer' sayin', Eastwood wer' comin' fra' th' market, an' they do say he rode hard, for he wer' trying to catch up wi' Horsfall o' Ottiwells." "Aye, they oft rode home together," I put in. "Weel, they'll nivver ride home together again if all they sen be true," continued Martha. "Eastwood had just getten sight o' Horsfall opposite Radcliffe's Plantation, when bang coom a shot out o' th' wood, an' he seed, they say, a felly jump on top o' th' wall an' wave his arms. An' Horsfall fell off his horse just as Eastwood wer riding up." "Dead?" I gasped. "Who said he wor dead? Noa, but as good as dead by all accounts. Eastwood's horse swerved at him as he ligged across th' road, an' Edmund wer thrown off into th' road. But he sammed hissen up an' bent ovver Horsfall, an' a lad caught th' mare up th' road as it wer' makin' for home as if Owd Harry wer' behind it, as he might be for owt aw can tell. But Eastwood nivver stayed for th' mare. He set off for Huddersfield as fast as he could split to fot a doctor." "And Mr. Horsfall?" "They carried him to th' Warrener, an' in a bit Eastwood comes back in th' gig wi' Dr. Houghton fra Huddersfield, they say i' a hand gallop an' covered wi 'sweat. Th' doctor jumps out o' th' trap an' runs into th' inn an' Eastwood wer' following him. But th' doctor comes running out again. He'd left some on his tools behind him." "Aye, aye, most haste least speed," from my mother. "And th' lad come up wi' Eastwood's horse, an' he up into th' saddle an' galloped off to th' town helter-skelter, an' reight at th' corner o' th' churchyard, just as if th' sensible crittur knew that were where th' rider wer' bun for, it threw him agean. They sen he's twisted his innards, an' they do say it's a toss up which 'll go first, him or Horsfall." "What! is Mr. Horsfall so badly hit?" "Aye, he's at th' Warrener. They cannot move him wom, and Mr. Scott o' Woodsome's theer to tak' his dying speech an' confession." "Deposition," I corrected.