eep, were all lost to him by blundering
and bad leadership before ever he was at grips with Feversham.

The armies came into collision in the neighbourhood of two o'clock in
the morning. Mr. Blood slept undisturbed through the distant boom of
cannon. Not until four o'clock, when the sun was rising to dispel the
last wisps of mist over that stricken field of battle, did he awaken
from his tranquil slumbers.

He sat up in bed, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and collected himself.
Blows were thundering upon the door of his house, and a voice was
calling incoherently. This was the noise that had aroused him.
Conceiving that he had to do with some urgent obstetrical case, he
reached for bedgown and slippers, to go below. On the landing he almost
collided with Mrs. Barlow, new-risen and unsightly, in a state of panic.
He quieted her cluckings with a word of reassurance, and went himself to
open.

There in slanting golden light of the new-risen sun stood a breathless,
wild-eyed man and a steaming horse. Smothered in dust and grime, his
clothes in disarray, the left sleeve of his doublet hanging in rags,
this young man opened his lips to speak, yet for a long moment remained
speechless.

In that moment Mr. Blood recognized him for the young shipmaster,
Jeremiah Pitt, the nephew of the maiden ladies opposite, one who had
been drawn by the general enthusiasm into the vortex of that rebellion.
The street was rousing, awakened by the sailor's noisy advent; doors
were opening, and lattices were being unlatched for the protrusion of
anxious, inquisitive heads.

"Take your time, now," said Mr. Blood. "I never knew speed made by
overhaste."

But the wild-eyed lad paid no heed to the admonition. He plunged,
headlong, into speech, gasping, breathless.

"It is Lord Gildoy," he panted. "He is sore wounded... at Oglethorpe's
Farm by the river. I bore him thither... and... and he sent me for you.
Come away! Come away!"

He would have clutched the doctor, and haled him forth by force in
bedgown and slippers as he was. But the doctor eluded that too eager
hand.

"To be sure, I'll come," said he. He was distressed. Gildoy had been a
very friendly, generous patron to him since his settling in these parts.
And Mr. Blood was eager enough to do what he now could to discharge
the debt, grieved that the occasion should have arisen, and in such a
manner--for he knew quite well that the rash young nobleman had been an
active agent of the