so foolishly: perhaps something
in his words had given them an excuse. He could not bear to think of
them coming to harm, even through their own fault.

"I can't, sir," answered the Governor sharply. "I have the dignity of
the Crown, which I represent, to think of. Pray stand aside, sir;" and
he added to the Colonel--"Your orders are not altered."

Medland's quick eye measured the distance between him and the rioters.
He was standing near the Governor, at the side of the troops, but a
little in advance of their line. A run might bring him to them before
the troops could reach them. If they did not resist there could be no
bloodshed. There was yet a chance, and suddenly he dashed across in
front of the line, crying, "Don't resist! don't resist!"

At the very moment of his start the Colonel had given the word to
charge. No man saw clearly how it happened, but there was a forward
dash, then an exclamation from one of the Volunteers, as he reined his
horse back on its haunches, a wild cry from the barricade, and a loud
shout, "Halt!" from Kilshaw. The line was stopped, and Kilshaw rode
swiftly up to where the trooper had wrenched back his horse. Medland lay
on the ground in front of the horse. The man had seen him too late to
avoid him; he had been knocked down and trampled with the hoofs. His
face was pale, and a slight twist of the features told of pain. He held
his hand to his right side.

Kilshaw was off his horse in an instant.

"Back there, back!" he cried. "Don't crowd on him."

The Governor rode up; a group gathered round. There was no more thought
of the charge. The rioters, after an instant, broke the barricade and
came out, one by one, timidly making for the spot.

"Here," whispered Kilshaw to Dick Derosne, "you lift his head. He won't
want to see me," and he drew back behind the wounded man.

The Governor dismounted and stood by his brother, but before Dick could
lift Medland's head, a rough woman, in a coarse gown, pushed through,
elbowing him and Lord Eynesford aside.

"Let me, gentlemen," she said, her eyes full of tears, as she pillowed
his head in her lap. "He's always been for us, Mr. Medland has," she
explained. "Give me a clean handkerchief, one of you."

The Governor handed his, and she wiped the clammy moisture from the
forehead and hands.

Medland opened his eyes.

"The horse kicked me in the side," he murmured faintly, "here, on the
right--low down. I'm in pain."

Then he saw Dick Der