hat come through a forest when it falls asleep, and Deborah
Pring, who had taken a motherly tendency toward me now, as if to make
up for my father, was sitting in the porch with my hands in her lap, and
telling me how to behave henceforth, as if the whole world depended upon
that, when we heard a swishing sound, as of branches thrust aside,
and then a low moan that went straight to my heart, as I thought of my
father when he took the blow of death.

"My son, my Bob, my eldest boy!" cried Mistress Pring, jumping up and
falling into my arms, like a pillow full of wire, for she insisted upon
her figure still. But before I could do anything to help her----

"Hit her on the back, ma'am; hit her hard upon the back. That is what
always brings mother round," was shouted, as I might say, into my ear by
the young man whom she was lamenting.

"Shut thy trap, Braggadose. To whom art thou speaking? Pretty much thou
hast learned of war to come and give lessons to thy father! Mistress
Sylvia, it is for thee to speak. Nothing would satisfy this young
springal but to bring his beaten captain here, for the sake of mother's
management. I told un that you would never take him in, for his father
have taken in you pretty well! Captain Purvis of the Somerset I know not
what--for the regiments now be all upside down. _Raggiments_ is the
proper name for them. Very like he be dead by this time, and better die
out of doors than in. Take un away, Bob. No hospital here!"

"Thomas Pring, who are you," I said, for the sound of another low groan
came through me, "to give orders to your master's daughter? If you bring
not the poor wounded gentleman in, you shall never come through this
door yourself."

"Ha, old hunks, I told thee so!" The young man who spoke raised his
hat to me, and I saw that it had a scarlet plume, such as Marwood de
Wichehalse gloried in. "In with thee, and stretch him that he may die
straight. I am off to Southmolton for Cutcliffe Lane, who can make a
furze-fagot bloom again. My filly can give a land-yard in a mile to Tom
Faggus and his Winnie. But mind one thing, all of you; it was none of us
that shot the captain, but his own good men. Farewell, Mistress Sylvia!"
With these words he made me a very low bow, and set off for his horse at
the corner of the wood--as reckless a gallant as ever broke hearts, and
those of his own kin foremost; yet himself so kind and loving.

CHAPTER V.--MISTAKEN AIMS.

Captain Purvis, now