One of the usual stories of the day was then told by the rest--of how a cargo had been run the night before, and got safe up into the country: how, when they thought all danger over, they had passed before old Bob Croyland's windows, and how Jim had given him a shot as he stood at one of them; and then they went on to say that, whether it was the noise of the gun, or that the old man had sent out to call the officers upon them, they could not tell; but about three miles further on, they saw a largish party of horse upon their right. Flight had then become the order of the day; but, finding that they could not effect it in one body, they were just upon the point of separating, Ned Ramley declared, when two of the riding officers overtook them, supported by a number of dragoons. Some firing took place, without much damage, and, dividing into three bodies, the smugglers scampered off, the Ramleys and their friends taking their way towards their own house, and the others in different directions. The former might have escaped unpursued, it would seem, had not the younger brother, Ned, determined to give one of the dragoons a shot before he went: thus bringing on the encounter in which he had received the wound on his head. While all this was being told to the father, the two girls, their lovers, the farm-servants, and several of the men, hurried the smuggled goods into the house, and raising a trap in the floor of the kitchen--contrived in such a manner that four whole boards moved up at once on the western side of the room--stowed the different articles away in places of concealment below, so well arranged, that even if the trap was discovered, the officers would find nothing but a vacant space, unless they examined the walls very closely. The horses were then all led to the stable; and Edward Ramley, having in some degree stopped the bleeding of his wound, moved into the house, with most of the other men. Old Ramley and the two farm-servants, however, remained without, occupying themselves in loading a cart with manure, till the sound of horses galloping down was heard, and somebody shook the gates violently, calling loudly to those within to open "in the King's name." The farmer instantly mounted upon the cart, and looked over the wall; but the party before the gates consisted only of five or six dragoons, of whom he demanded, in a bold tone, "Who the devil be you, that I should open for you? Go away, go away, and leave a quiet man at peace!" "If you don't open the gates, we'll break them down," said one of the men. "Do, if you dare," answered old Ramley, boldly; "and if you do, I'll shoot the best of you dead.--Bring me my gun, Tom.--Where's your warrant, young man? You are not an officer, and you've got none with you, so I shan't let any boiled lobsters enter my yard, I can tell you."