“Well, I went on for a mile or two farther, when a new adventure happened to me. That was stranger still--it was like a story-book; and you will hardly believe me--but as I was going through a piece of woods, following a by-road by which I cut off a mile or more, I heard groans near the road, and once more stopped my cart. Then I listened. I was scared, and began to believe in witchcraft. The groans came from the woods on my left, and there was no doubt about the sound--so, having listened for some time, I mustered courage to go in the direction of the sound. Can you think what I found, general?” “What?” said Mohun, in the same cool voice; “tell me.” “A man lying in a grave;--a real grave, general--broad and deep--a man with a hole through his breast, and streaming with blood.” “Is it possible?” And Mohun uttered a laugh. “Just as I tell you, general--it is the simple, naked truth. When I got to the place, he was struggling to get out of the grave, and his breast was bleeding terribly. I never saw a human being look paler. ‘Help!’ he cried out, in a suffocated voice like, when he saw me--and as he spoke, he made such a strong effort to rise, that his wound gushed with blood, and he fainted.” “He fainted, did he? And what did you do?” said Mohun. “I took him up in my arms, general, as I had taken the woman, carried him to my cart, when I bound up his breast in the best way I could, and laid him by the side of the half-drowned lady.” “To get a reward from _his_ friends, too, no doubt?” “Well, general, we must live, you know. And did I not deserve something for being so scared--and for the use of my mule?” “Certainly you did. Is not the laborer worthy of his hire? But go on, sir--your tale is interesting.” “Tale, general? It is the truth--on the word of Swartz!” “I no longer doubt now, if I did before,” said Mohun; “but tell me the end of your adventure.”