“Why, when I see poor Master Markum fall, I was jest agoin’ to kneel down to raise him a bit, when I ketched sight o’ Jack Hargrave and his pal a cutting away like lamplighters, and I felt mad like to think he should get off scotfree arter what he’d been and done, and having my gun in my hand, I give ’em the contents of both barrels; it worn’t right, I knows, Mr. Coverdale, but if you’d been in my place, squire, I’m blessed if I don’t think you’d ha done the same, axing your pardon.” Feeling a strong private conviction that “Giles” had only judged him correctly, Harry looked grave and shook his head, as if such a possibility could not exist in the case of a magistrate, ere he inquired, “Do you think you hit either of them?” “They’d got a farish start before I pulled at ’em,” was the reply, “and the light ain’t that good for a long shot, but I fancy Jack Hargrave’s got something to take home with him, for he give a rare jump as the charge reached him; but it warn’t enough to stop him, for I see him a runnin’ like a greyhound arter-wards.” While this conversation was proceeding, Coverdale, by aid of sundry neckcloths, and a strip that he cut from his own pea-jacket, had contrived a bandage which in great measure stopped the bleeding, and Markum revived sufficiently to recognise those about him; as his eyes fell on Coverdale, a faint smile passed across his features. “Is it you, squire?” he murmured in a low voice. “Ah! you always had a kind heart of your own; Jack Hargrave’s kep his word, you see. I expects him and his mate ’as finished me atween ’em this time.” “We’ll hope not, my poor fellow--but don’t speak. Do you think you can bear carrying yet--yes? Four of you take that hand-gate off its hinges, and bring it here; we’ll lay him on that. We shall have a surgeon for you directly, my poor fellow! I sent one of the lads off on my horse to fetch Mr. Gouger the moment I came up--now, steady with him. I’ll lift his head--that’s it; now raise the gate steadily. Gently there--well done--are you all ready? Step together mind--march.” As he spoke, Harry (who himself supported one corner of the temporary litter he had contrived) and three others, raised the wounded man on their shoulders, and carried him to his own cottage, which fortunately was near at hand. He bore the transit bravely, though the pain occasioned by such motion as was unavoidable, reduced him more than once to the verge of fainting. Shortly after he had reached his destination the surgeon arrived. Coverdale waited until he had pronounced the wound dangerous, though not necessarily mortal, then leaving him to make a more minute examination, he quitted the house. He found a mounted policeman awaiting him outside, who, making his rounds, had been attracted by the sound of guns at that unusual hour.