Sam Jones and Peter Gubbins both left off to listen, and then they all
heard it distinctly. A dreadful noise it was, and when Mr. Sutton and
one or two more follered it up they found poor Walter Bell lying on 'is
face in a bramble.

"Wot's the matter?" ses Mr. Sutton, shouting at 'im.

"I've been shot from behind," ses Walter. "I'd got something in my boot,
and I was just stooping down to fasten it up agin when I got it.

"But there oughtn't to be anybody 'ere," ses Mr. Sutton to one of the
keepers.

"They get all over the place, sir," ses the 'keeper, scratching his 'ead.
"I fancied I 'eard a gun go off here a minute or two arter the others was
shot."

"I believe he's done it 'imself," says Mr. Sutton, stamping his foot.

"I don't see 'ow he could, sir," ses the keeper, touching his cap and
looking at Walter as was still lying with 'is face on 'is arms.

They carried Walter 'ome that way on a hurdle, and Dr. Green spent all
the rest o' that day picking shots out o' them three men and telling 'em
to keep still. He 'ad to do Sam Jones by candle-light, with Mrs. Jones
'olding the candle with one hand and crying with the other. Twice the
doctor told her to keep it steady, and poor Sam 'ad only just passed the
remark, "How 'ot it was for October," when they discovered that the bed
was on fire. The doctor said that Sam was no trouble. He got off of the
bed by 'imself, and, when it was all over and the fire put out, the
doctor found him sitting on the stairs with the leg of a broken chair in
'is hand calling for 'is wife.

Of course, there was a terrible to-do about it in Claybury, and up at the
Hall, too. All of the gentlemen said as 'ow they hadn't done it, and Mr.
Sutton was arf crazy with rage. He said that they 'ad made 'im the
laughing-stock of the neighbourhood, and that they oughtn't to shoot with
anything but pop-guns. They got to such high words over it that two of
the gentlemen went off 'ome that very night.

There was a lot of talk up at the _Cauliflower,_ too, and more than one
pointed out 'ow lucky Bob Pretty was in getting four men out of the six
in his club. As I said afore, Bob was away at the time, but he came back
the next night and we 'ad the biggest row here you could wish for to see.

Henery Walker began it. "I s'pose you've 'eard the dreadful news, Bob
Pretty?" he ses, looking at 'im.

"I 'ave," ses Bob; "and my 'art bled for 'em. I told you wot those
gentlemen was like, didn't