"fighting the battle o'er again.'* 141 



u Let me see, sir," said Mark, kneeling down by the sofa ; 

 "I have known something about gunshot wounds before to- 

 day." 



" It is all right," said Beauchamp ; " Mrs. Gordon has kindly 

 fomented and bound it up; besides, Mark," he whispered, " there 

 are ladies in the room." 



"I beg pardon, sir," said the poacher, rising, "but I was 

 only thinking of you." 



"Now, Mark," said Mrs. Gordon, leading up Blanche, "it 

 is our turn to thank you, my kind friend, for your valuable 

 assistance this night;" and both shook him cordially by the 

 hand. 



" Welcome, right welcome, ladies," replied Mark, " and glad 

 am I to see that dear young lady once more happy and safe ; 

 but, my lady, it were a near thing — that long-legged lord were 

 just a-going to drag Miss Blanche from the carriage, when the 

 young squire (God bless him !) knocked him off his pins like a 

 babby, and shut the door. Then up jumps my lord, and let fly 

 a bullet at Mr. William, which (the Lord be praised for it !) 

 missed un clean. The squire then broke his arm — sarved him 

 right — and with another rattler in the face, sent my Lord 

 Longlegs spinning across the road ; and I'll wager a pound he 

 remembers the young squire to his dying day. So you see, my 

 lady, it warn't Mark, but Mr. William, that saved Miss Blanche 

 from being half way on her road to Scotland by this time." 



"There, Mark, that will do," interposed Beauchamp; "now 

 sit down, and Miss Blanche will give you a cup of tea ; and tell 

 me about your own wound in the back." 



"Ah, sir, that foreign coward thought he had me there 

 nicely, but the velveteen and badger waistcoat stood my friends, 

 and it's only a scratch after all — not half so bad as yours, sir. 

 But what dye think, squire 1 dang it all ! our three prisoners 

 are my Lord Mervyn's night watchers." 



" What, Mark ! " exclaimed Beauchamp. 



" As true as you be lying on that sofa, sir ; we knowed 'em 

 directly we got to the light, sir ; and one on 'em, that chap that 

 shot you, squire, has got something in his carcass, which don't 

 quite agree with un quite so well as a figgy pudding." 



" I hope he's not seriously hurt, though, Mark, and that he 

 has been attended to 1 " 



" Yes, yes, squire ; don't fidget about him, for all the ser- 

 vants in the house have been waiting on and pitying the rascal, 

 and we can' t do more till the doctor comes ; and then to think, 



