On this improvised litter Geoffrey, still insensible, was placed, his head propped up somewhat with their jackets; and then, as they lifted him, the question arose, where should they take him. As he was the Squire's visitor, it seemed proper to carry him there; but Augustus, who had his own private reasons for desiring to avoid the Squire, vehemently insisted that it was all up-hill and through the wood, and much farther than Greene Ferne. Valentine, anxious to get somewhere, and quite beside himself with impatience, begged them to start; so the bearers set out across the corner of the wood for the farm. Basset walked in front, opening a road through the bushes; but the tall dead thistles, swinging back as they hurriedly pushed along, pricked the pale cheek and listless hands of their burden. They emerged from the wood shortly, and crossed the meadow towards the ploughed field. Augustus, with his hand now on Valentine's shoulder, babbled in his ear, and showed him the briar-stick. "I was poking a rabbit-bury," said he, "when you came along shooting. There ain't no call to say anything to the Squire. See, here's bunnie's fur!" He pointed to the end of the stick, where the sharp curved prickles were left on, having been cut from the other end for ease of handling. To these prickles a little soft fur adhered, together with particles of sand. "I found him--he's got his head in the bottom of the hole and can't move, and my other pug is at him. He's young, and wants lining. When you came along I got down in the ditch under the fern. But, I say, fair play in the army! If this had been a ground-ash stick,"--swishing the briar, which bent easily--"I should have knocked the gun out of your hands; but this briar plied, don't you see? I must go back for the other ferret presently." He ran forward to open the gate of the ploughed field for the bearers, who were now a little way in front. Puff-puff! puff-puff! hum-m-m! The fly-wheel whirled about, beating the air to musical resonance; the steel sinew of Behemoth stretched across the stubble, dragging the shares remorselessly through tender roots of pimpernel and creeping convolvulus. Hum-m-m! It was rough travelling over the deep fresh-turned furrows, that exhaled a scent of earth, and their burden was somewhat jolted. "Hulloa, you! What's up? I say there--you!" The men with the ploughing engines had espied the litter, and, abandoning operations, came running across the field. Thus, surrounded by an excited group, the wounded man was borne over the lawn at Greene Ferne. CHAPTER ELEVEN. A FEAST--CONCLUSION.