“You are a brave boy,” said Mr. Carroll.  “Where is he now?”

“He has tumbled to the ground, shot through the shoulder, I think.”

There was a loud thumping at the door.  Herbert opened it, and admitted half a dozen guests, headed by the landlord.

“What’s the matter?” exclaimed all, in chorus.

“If you will come to the window, gentlemen, I will show you,” said Herbert.

They followed him curiously, and the sight of the ladder and the wounded man, who was uttering groans of pain from the ground below, told the story at once.

“Served the rascal right,” said the landlord.  “Who is he?”

“The black-whiskered man who was in the barroom last night,” said Herbert.

“I remember now; he asked particularly where you were to sleep—­you and the old gentleman—­but I did not suspect his purpose.”

“I did,” said Herbert, “and kept awake to be ready for him.”

“You are a brave lad.”

“I only did my duty,” said Herbert, modestly.

“Help! help!” groaned the wretch below.

Herbert heard the cry of pain, and his heart was filled with pity.  The man was, indeed, a villain.  He had only been served right, as the landlord said.  Still, he was a fellow-creature, and he was in pain.  Herbert could not regret that he had shot him; but he did regret the necessity, and he felt sympathy for him in his suffering.

“Poor fellow!” he said, compassionately; “I am afraid he is a good deal hurt.”

“Poor fellow!” echoed the landlord.  “It serves him right.”

“Still, he is in pain, and he ought to be cared for.”

“He has no claim upon us.  He may he there till morning.”

“No,” said Mr. Carroll.  “Herbert is right.  He is guilty, but he is in pain, and it is the part of humanity to succor him.  Landlord, if you will have him brought in, and send for the doctor, you may look to me for your pay.”

“Yet, he was going to rob you, sir,” said the landlord, considerably surprised.

“Yes, that is true; but you don’t know how strongly he was tempted.”

“He looks like a hard ticket.  I didn’t like to give him a bed, but we can’t well refuse travelers, if they have money to pay their reckoning.  I made him pay in advance.”

“Pray, lose no time,” said Herbert, as another groan was heard; “I will go out and help you bring him in.”

A lantern was lit, and the whole company followed the landlord out.

“Well,” said he, throwing the light of the candle full on the sufferer’s face, “you’ve got yourself into a fine pickle, haven’t you?”

“Oh,” groaned the burglar, “if it hadn’t been for that accursed boy!”

“You’d have got off with the old gentleman’s money.  Well, it was rather unkind to interfere.”

“Are you in much pain?” asked Herbert, bending over him.

There was something in his voice that betrayed the compassion he really felt.