an' I'm no ower sure o' his man. Sae, the granther an' I'll watch till
it's twal', if you wi' Timotheus 'll relieve us till two i' the mornin'.
What say ye to thon?"

"All right, I'll be here at midnight. Could you get me the cartridges
out of my knapsack upstairs?"

The Squire produced the cartridges, and the lawyer went back to his
post-office quarters.

Punctually at midnight he returned, and relieved Mr. Carruthers in
front of the house, while Timotheus took Mr. Terry's place behind. It
was after one when he saw a figure, which he did not recognize as
belonging to any one in the house, steal out of the front door with a
heavy burden. He ran towards the figure, and it stole, as rapidly as
possible, down the garden to the hill meadow. He knew it now, outlined
against the heavens, and fired his revolver. He knew that he had hit his
man, and that Rawdon was wounded in the body or in the upper part of a
leg. Hurriedly he pursued, entering the strip of woodland towards the
brook, when something fell upon him, and two keen qualms of pain shot
through his breast. Then he lay insensible. Meanwhile, a lithe active
form, leaving a horse tethered at the gate, had sprung to meet a second
intruder, issuing from the front door of Bridesdale. The opposing forces
met, and Mr. Bangs had his hands upon the younger gaol breaker. A loud
shout brought Timotheus on the scene, and the prisoner was secured. The
household was aroused. The Squire found his office a scene of confusion,
his safe broken open, the hidden treasure and many of his papers gone.
Inwardly he muttered maledictions on the sentry of the watch, little
knowing that the burglars had entered the house while he was himself on
guard. In his vexation, and the general excitement, with the presence of
Miss Graves and Messrs. Douglas and Bangs, the unhappy lawyer's absence
was overlooked. His shot apparently had not been heard. The vicinity of
the house was scoured for Rawdon, but without effect. He had got away
with his own money and many incriminating papers, to be a continued
source of annoyance and danger. Those who gave any thought to Coristine
imagined him asleep at the post office, and wondered at his
indifference. Chief among them were the dominie and Miss Carmichael.
There was little more rest that night in Bridesdale. One villain at
large was sufficient to keep the whole company in a state of
uncomfortable disquiet and apprehension. It was still dark, when old
Styles