’You go for’ard, Piper,’ said Tom Crout. ’that he mayn’t see you and be frightened if he do open his eyes.’ Then the cattle-jobber walked first, holding the long cow’s tail over his arm, lest those who followed should tread on it and be tripped up. Sam Voaden and three other young men raised the gate on their shoulders, and walked easily under it. Behind came the hounds, careful not to present their blackened faces to the opening eyes of their unconscious friend; and, lastly, Tom Crout mounted on the piebald. One of the boys had found the horn, and unable to resist the temptation to try his breath on it, blew a faint blast. ’Shut up, will you?’ shouted Piper, turning. ’Who is that braying? You’ll be making Larry fancy he hears the last trump, and he’ll jump off the gate and hurt himself again.’ Larry Nanspian had not broken his neck nor fractured his skull. He was much bruised, strained, and his right arm and collar-bone were broken. His insensibility proceeded from concussion of the brain; but even this was not serious, for he gradually recovered his consciousness as he was being carried homewards. Too dazed at first to know where he was, what had happened, and how he came to be out and lying on a gate, he did not speak or stir. Indeed, he felt unwilling to make an effort, a sense of exhaustion overmastered him, and every movement caused him pain. He lay with his face to the night sky, watching the dark cloud, listening to the voices of his bearers, and picking with the fingers of his left hand at a mossy gate bar under him. At first he did not hear what words were passing about him, he was aware only of voices speaking: the first connected sentence he was able to follow was this:— ’’Twould be a bad job if Larry were killed.’ ’Bad job for him, yes,’ was the reply. ’What do y’ mean by that?’ asked Sam Voaden. He recognised Sam’s voice at once, and he felt the movement of Sam’s shoulder tilting the fore end of the gate as he turned his head to ask the question. ’O, I mean naught but what everyone says. A bad job for any chap to die; but I don’t reckon the loss would be great to Chimsworthy. Some chance, then, of the farm going to proper hands. Larry ain’t much, and never will be, but for larks and big talk. I say that Chimsworthy is a disgrace to the parish; and what is more there is sure to be a smash there unless there comes an alteration. Alteration there would never be under Larry.’ ’I’ve heard tell that the old man has borrowed a sight of money from Taverner Langford, and now he’s bound to pay it off, and can’t do it.’ ’Not like to, the way he’s gone on; sowing brag brings brambles.’ ’You see,’ said Voaden, ’they always reckoned on getting Langford, some day, when the old fellow died.’ ’And what a mighty big fool Larry is to aggravate his uncle. Instead of keeping good terms with the old gentleman he goes out o’ his road to offend him.’