de of the hedge and were
deliberately robbing him. He was on the point of renewing an useless and
dangerous struggle, when one of the ruffians said, "I think he stirs, I
had better draw my knife across his throat."

"Pooh, no!" replied another voice, "never kill if it can be helped:
trust me 'tis an ugly thing to think of afterwards. Besides, what use
is it? A robbery, in these parts, is done and forgotten; but a murder
rouses the whole country."

"Damnation, man! why, the deed's done already, he's as dead as a
door-nail."

"Dead!" said the other in a startled voice; "no, no!" and leaning down,
the ruffian placed his hand on Walter's heart. The unfortunate traveller
felt his flesh creep as the hand touched him, but prudently abstained
from motion or exclamation. He thought, however, as with dizzy and
half-shut eyes he caught the shadowy and dusk outline of the face that
bent over him, so closely that he felt the breath of its lips, that it
was one that he had seen before; and as the man now rose, and the wan
light of the skies gave a somewhat clearer view of his features, the
supposition was heightened, though not absolutely confirmed. But Walter
had no farther power to observe his plunderers: again his brain reeled;
the dark trees, the grim shadows of human forms, swam before his glazing
eye; and he sunk once more into a profound insensibility.

Meanwhile, the doughty Corporal had at the first sight of his master's
fall, halted abruptly at the spot to which his steed had carried
him; and coming rapidly to the conclusion that three men were best
encountered at a distance, he fired his two pistols, and without staying
to see if they took effect, which, indeed, they did not, galloped down
the precipitous hill with as much despatch, as if it had been the last
stage to "Lunnun."

"My poor young master!" muttered he: "But if the worst comes to the
worst, the chief part of the money's in the saddle-bags any how; and so,
messieurs thieves, you're bit--baugh!"

The Corporal was not long in reaching the town, and alarming the
loungers at the inn-door. A posse comitatus was soon formed; and, armed
as if they were to have encountered all the robbers between Hounslow
and the Apennine, a band of heroes, with the Corporal, who had first
deliberately reloaded his pistols, at their head, set off to succour
"the poor gentleman what was already murdered."

They had not got far before they found Walter's horse, which had luckily