ling and breaking
of branches, evidently caused by men in full retreat.

"All right, my lass. Quick: go back to the lodge for a lantern. Man
shot."

She turned and ran back, while we kept on, and reached an opening in the
wood, where we made out, dimly, two tall figures, and my blood turned
cold at a piteous moaning from somewhere on the ground.

"Who's there?" cried Bob Hopley's voice.

"Only us, Bob," I said. "Are you hurt?"

"Nay, lad, not a bit. I should ha' been, though, if Mr Lomax hadn't
knocked up the barrel with his stick and then downed the man."

"You've murdered my mate," came from close by our feet. "You've shot
him."

"First time I ever did shoot anything without a gun," said the keeper.
"One of you hit him, or he did it himself."

"You shot him--you murdered him," cried the man who had spoken,
struggling to his knees, and then crouching among the pine needles,
holding his head with his hands as if it were broken, and rocking
himself to and fro.

"Oh, if that's it," said Bob Hopley, "I must have witnesses. Mr Lomax,
I've just come from Hastings. I heard the shooting o' my fezzans, and I
come on with this stick. You see I've no gun, and you, too, young
gents?"

"Yah! you shot him," groaned the man, who was evidently in great pain;
"and then you knocked me down with the bar'l o' the gun."

"Oh, come, that won't do, lad," cried Lomax; "that was a cut from the
left. I gave you that, my lad, to keep you from shooting me."

"Pair o' big cowards, that's what you are."

"Cowards, eh?" cried Lomax. "Not much o' that, Hopley. Two men with
sticks against a gang of you fellows with guns. How many were you?"

"Nine on us," groaned the man. "Oh, my yed, my yed!"

"Nine of you to two honest men. Serve you right. Should have stopped
at home and earned an honest living, not come stealing game."

"What!" cried the man fiercely; "'taren't stealing; they're wild birds,
and as much our'n as his'n."

"You're a donkey," said Lomax. "Why, there'd be no pheasants if they
weren't reared like chickens."

"That's so," said Hopley.--"Why don't that gal bring a light?"

"Here she comes," cried Mercer, for he caught sight of the dim glow of
the horn lantern among the trees, and as it came nearer, Bob Hopley
said,--

"Hadn't you young gents better get back to bed? this here aren't no
place for you."

"No, no, don't send us away, Bob," I said; "we want to see."

"Well, you will be witnesses," h