wberry wheeled quickly in her tracks and
trotted down the avenue under the evident impression that she was going
home. Mr. Juxon dashed across the ditch again to the place where Walter
Goddard had fallen.

The squire knelt down and tried to ascertain the extent of the man's
injuries; as far as he could see there was a bad wound at his throat, and
one hand was much mangled. But there seemed to have been no great flow of
blood. He tore open the smock-frock and shirt and put his ear to the
heart. Faintly, very faintly, he could hear it beat. Walter Goddard was
alive still--alive to live for years perhaps, the squire reflected; to
live in a prison, it was true, but to live. To describe his feelings in
that moment would be impossible. Had he found the convict dead, it would
be useless to deny that he would have felt a very great satisfaction,
tempered perhaps by some pity for the wretched man's miserable end, but
still very great. It would have seemed such a just end, after all; to be
killed in the attempt to kill, and to have died not by the squire's hand
but by the sharp strong jaws of the hound who had once before saved the
squire's life. But he was alive. It would not take much to kill him; a
little pressure on his wounded throat would be enough. Even to leave
him there, uncared for, till morning in the bleak wind, lying upon the
cold ground, would be almost certain to put an end to his life. But to
the honour of Charles James Juxon be it said that such thoughts never
crossed his mind. He pulled off his heavy ulster greatcoat, wrapped it
about the felon's insensible body, then, kneeling, raised up his head and
shoulders, got his strong arms well round him and with some difficulty
rose to his feet. Once upright, it was no hard matter to carry his
burthen through the trees to the road, and up the avenue to his own door.

"Holmes," said Mr. Juxon to his butler, "this man is badly hurt, but he
is alive. Help me to carry him upstairs."

There was that in the squire's voice which brooked neither question nor
delay when he was in earnest. The solemn butler took Walter Goddard by
the feet and the squire took him by the shoulders; so they carried him up
to a bedroom and laid him down, feeling for the bed in the dark as they
moved. Holmes then lit a candle with great calmness.

"Shall I send for the medical man, sir?" he asked quietly.

"Yes. Send the gig as fast as possible. If he is not at home, or cannot
be found, send on t