g glen. At the first report
the girl, though startled, was not greatly frightened; for the sound was
common enough in the week when those most gallant volunteers entitled
the "Yorkshire Invincibles" came down for their annual practice of
skilled gunnery against the French. Their habit was to bring down a
red cock, and tether him against a chalky cliff, and then vie with one
another in shooting at him. The same cock had tested their skill for
three summers, but failed hitherto to attest it, preferring to return in
a hamper to his hens, with a story of moving adventures.

Mary had watched those Invincibles sometimes from a respectful distance,
and therefore felt sure (when she began to think) that she had not them
to thank for this little scare. For they always slept soundly in the
first watch of the morning; and even supposing they had jumped up with
nightmare, where was the jubilant crow of the cock? For the cock, being
almost as invincible as they were, never could deny himself the glory of
a crow when the bullet came into his neighborhood. He replied to every
volley with an elevated comb, and a flapping of his wings, and a clarion
peal, which rang along the foreshore ere the musket roar died out. But
before the girl had time to ponder what it was, or wherefore, round the
corner came somebody, running very swiftly.

In a moment Mary saw that this man had been shot at, and was making for
his life away; and to give him every chance she jerked her pony aside,
and called and beckoned; and without a word he flew to her. Words were
beyond him, till his breath should come back, and he seemed to have no
time to wait for that. He had outstripped the wind, and his own wind, by
his speed.

"Poor man!" cried Mary Anerley, "what a hurry you are in! But I suppose
you can not help it. Are they shooting at you?"

The runaway nodded, for he could not spare a breath, but was deeply
inhaling for another start, and could not even bow without hinderance.
But to show that he had manners, he took off his hat. Then he clapped it
on his head and set off again.

"Come back!" cried the maid; "I can show you a place. I can hide you
from your enemies forever."

The young fellow stopped. He was come to that pitch of exhaustion in
which a man scarcely cares whether he is killed or dies. And his face
showed not a sign of fear.

"Look! That little hole--up there--by the fern. Up at once, and this
cloth over you!"

He snatched it, and was gon