Marston, you're all right!" cried Dick. "You wouldn't have
hurt if you had come across here."

"Help!" came faintly from the prostrate traveller, and Dick caught his
arm, but only to elicit a groan.

"Well, he is a coward!" thought Dick. "Here, father! Hicky!"

"Rather soft, my boy!" said the squire.

"Ay, not meant for men o' our weight, mester," said the wheelwright; and
they had to flounder in the soft bog a little before they reached the
spot where Dick stood holding the young man's cold hand.

"He has fainted with fright, father," said Dick, who felt amused at
anyone being so alarmed out there in the darkness.

"Let me tackle him, mester," said the wheelwright.

"No; each take a hand, my lad," said the squire, "and then let's move
together for the path as quickly as possible."

"Reight!" cried Hickathrift, laconically; and, stooping down, they each
took a hand, and half ran half waded through the black boggy mud, till
they reached the path from which the young man had strayed.

"Poor chap! he were a bit scar'd to find himself in bog."

"Pity he ventured that way," said the squire.

"Here, Mr Marston, you're all right now," said Dick. "Can you get up
and walk?"

There was no answer, but the young man tried to struggle up, and would
have sunk down again had not the squire caught him round the waist.

"Poor lad! he's bet out. Not used to our parts," said Hickathrift.
"Here, howd hard, sir. Help me get him o' my back like a sack, and I'll
run him up to the house i' no time."

It seemed the best plan; and as the young man uttered a low moan he was
half lifted on to Hickathrift's broad back, and carried toward the
house.

"Run on, Dick, and tell your mother to mix a good glass of hollands and
water," said the squire.

Dick obeyed, and the steaming glass of hot spirits was ready as the
wheelwright bore in his load, and the young man was placed in a chair
before the glowing kitchen fire.

"My arm!" he said faintly.

"You wrenched his arm, Hicky," said Dick, "when you dragged him out."

"Very sorry, Mester Dick."

"Ugh!" cried the lad, who had laid his hand tenderly on their visitor's
shoulder.

"What is it?" cried Mrs Winthorpe.

"Blood. He has been hurt," said Dick.

"Shot! Here," said the young man in a whisper; and then his head sank
down sidewise, and he fainted dead away.

Mr Marston's faintly-uttered words sent a thrill through all present,
but no time was wasted. People who l