rned it from the noise
made by the woodman in felling trees.

What happened then Vane did not know, for when he unclosed his eyes
again, it was to gaze at the level rays of the ruddy sun which streamed
in amongst the leaves and twigs of the beeches, making them glorious to
behold.

For a few minutes he lay there unable to comprehend anything but the
fact that his head was amongst the rough, woody beech-mast, and that one
hand grasped the trowel while the other was full of dead leaves; but as
his memory began to work more clearly and he tried to move, the sharp
pains which shot through him chased all the mental mists away and he
sprang up into a sitting posture unable to resist uttering a groan of
pain as he looked round to see if either of the gipsy boys was in sight.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

WHERE VANE SPENT THE NIGHT.

The squirrel and the squirrel only. There was not even a sound now.
Vane could see the basket he had brought and the two pieces of the
strong ash stick which he had broken over the fight with the second boy.
The ground was trampled and the leaves kicked up, but no enemy was
near, and he naturally began to investigate his damages.

"They haven't killed me--not quite," he said, half-aloud, as he winced
in passing his hand over his left shoulder and breast; and then his eyes
half-closed, a deathly feeling of sickness came over him and he nearly
fainted with horror, for at the touch of his hand a severe pain shot
through his shoulder, and he could feel that his breast and armpit was
soaking wet.

Recovering from the shock of the horrible feeling he took out his
handkerchief to act as a bandage, for he felt that he must be bleeding
freely from one of the blows, and he knew enough from his uncle's books
about injured arteries to make him set his teeth and determine to try
and stop that before he attempted to get to his feet and start for home.

His first effort was to unbutton his Norfolk jacket and find the injury
which he felt sure must be a cut across the shoulder, but at the first
touch of his hand he winced again, and the sick feeling came back with a
faint sensation of horror, for there was a horrible grating sound which
told of crushed bone and two edges grinding one upon the other.

Again he mastered his weakness and boldly thrust his hand into his
breast, withdrew it, and burst out into a wild hysterical laugh as he
gave a casual glance at his hand before passing it cautiously into his