Everell then explained his concealment among the bracken, relating exactly what he had seen. “I thought you must have got far away, to judge from your speed down yonder slope.” “Nay, sir,” said the man, stepping back so that Everell might rise, “I had no need to run further. I was already off the land of them that were chasing me—the boundary is just beyond the glade: you could see the fence among the trees if ’twere daylight—but I kept running lest they might send a shot after me. As soon as I found covert on this side the glade, I stopped to get my breath. Now, sir, I’ve been as frank with you as you’ve been with me; and I’m glad to see, by the way you stand and step, that no lasting injury is done, after all.” Everell, whose hat had saved his skull, and who could feel only a little blood, and that already coagulating, was able to stand without other unpleasant symptoms than a thumping ache of the head. His new acquaintance seemed ready to go about his own business, but Everell was loth to part with him so soon. He was a short, thick-set, long-armed fellow, with a broad face, whose bold, rugged features would by ignorant people be termed ugly, and whose scowling, defiant look would by the same people be called wicked. But something in his speech or manner, or even in his appearance as far as could be made out in the comparative darkness, stamped him in Everell’s mind as an honest rascal, worthy of confidence. “No injury, I assure you,” replied Everell. “Indeed I must thank you for a lesson. Henceforth I shall look before I leap, in any similar case; with my hand on my sword, too.” “’Tis a wise resolve, master. Though I for one am glad your hand was not on your sword to-night: for then I should have felt sure you were in league with them yonder, and worse might have happened.” “By ‘them yonder,’ I take it you mean gamekeepers.” “Ay, sir, Squire Thornby’s men. ’Tis his wood, yon enclosure. Here on the Foxwell land a fellow is safe enough, so long as it be only a rabbit or pheasant now and then. Sure the more fool I for not thinking of that when you appeared—I might ’a’ known the Foxwell people would never stop a man them Thornby keepers was down upon.” “Then the shot I heard awhile ago was fired at you by the Thornby keepers?” “No need to speak of that, sir. If so be you heard a shot, why, you heard it, and there’s an end.” While he spoke, the man fingered with the flap of a well-stuffed pocket in his coat. “How I knew it was the Thornby people was by their voices, sir, whereby I saw fit to run. Not that I’m afeard of e’er a body of them all, but I hold it ’ud be fool’s work to shorten my own life or another man’s. And right glad I be to know I didn’t shorten your honour’s, especially now I see what sort of gentleman your honour is.”