d Jimmy start round an' swerve a bit, an'
suthin' stickin' out caught him on the shoulder an' knocked him into
the ditch as if he'd been hit wi' a cannon-ball.'

'And they never stopped or asked what was the matter?' cried Dick.

'Not they,' said the old man; 'on they went as fast as iver.'

'What cads!' cried Dick. 'Did you see the number, Chippy?'

'No,' replied the Raven. 'Too much dust.'

'There were four men in it,' went on the old man, 'an' they looked back
at me, but they niver pulled up.'

The scouts were loud in their anger against the inconsiderate
motorists, and they were perfectly right. The truth was that the men
had fled in fear. A chauffeur had taken his master's car without
permission to give some of his fellow servants a run, and they dreaded
detection, which would get them into trouble at home. However, the car
had gone, and its number was not known, and within half a mile there
was a meeting of cross roads where the motorists could turn aside
without passing through the village. The comrades gave their attention
to the matter immediately in hand, and helped the old man to unharness
the struggling donkey and draw the little cart back.

The poor beast did not attempt to rise when it was freed. There was a
cut on the shoulder where it had been struck, but the wound was not
bleeding much, and the old man did not think the hurt was so bad as it
proved to be.

'S'pose we tried to get Jimmy on his legs,' he proposed, and the two
scouts sprang to help him. They were trying to raise the poor brute
when a gamekeeper with his gun under his arm came through a gate near
at hand.

'Hallo, Thatcher, what's wrong?' he called out.

'Why, 'tis one o' these here danged motor-cars,' replied the old man.
'Gooin' faster than an express train along this narrow way, an' knocked
Jimmy into the ditch.'

The gamekeeper came up, and at the first glance called upon them to lay
the donkey down again.

'Let me have a look at him,' he said. 'That cut's nothing. There's
worse than that cut, I fancy.'

'I hope no bones have a-gone,' said the donkey's master.

'That's just where it is, Thatcher,' said the gamekeeper, after a short
examination. 'The poor beast's shoulder is a-broke right across.
He'll ne'er stand on his four legs again.'

Thatcher uttered a cry of distress.

'Broke across, ye say, keeper! Then what's to be done with him?'

'Nothing,' said the keeper; 'there's nothing ye can do to cure hi