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 came to the gate and asked for Mr. Coristine, as he said the crazy woman was at the post office, and Mrs. Tibbs wanted to know if she could have the use of the spare room for the rest of the night.  Then the Squire was alarmed, and a great revulsion of feeling took place.  The man almost entirely ignored was now in everybody’s mind, his name on all lips but those which had been more to him than all the rest.

Stable lanterns were got out, and an active search began.  Mr. Terry’s practiced ear caught the sound of voices down the hillside, and he descended rapidly towards them.  Soon, he came running back, tearing at his long iron grey hair, and the tears streaming from his eyes, to the place where his son-in law was standing.  “Get a shate or a quilt or something, John, till we take it out av that Och, sorra, sorra, the foine, brave boy!” At once, Mr. Douglas and Timotheus accompanied the Squire to the little wood, and beheld the owners of the voices, Mr. Newcome and his intending son-in-law, Ben Toner.

“Aw niver tetched un, Ben.  Aw wor jest goan troo t’ bush, when aw stoombled laike over’s carkidge and fall, and got t’ blood on ma claws,” said the former to his captor.

“S’haylp me,” replied Ben, “ef I thunk it was you as killed the doctor, I’d put the barl o’ this here gun to your hayd and blow out your braiuns.”