Now, sir, time, if you please.' Alas for the little man! in another moment he tumbled over and lay senseless--Lancelot thought he had killed him.

The gang saw their champion fall, gave ground, and limped off, leaving three of their party groaning on the ground, beside as many Whitford men.
As it was in the beginning, so is it to be to the end, my foolish brothers! From the poacher to the prime minister--wearying yourselves for very vanity! The soldier is not the only man in England who is fool enough to be shot at for a shilling a day.
But while all the rest were busy picking up the wounded men and securing the prisoners, Harry Verney alone held on, and as the poachers retreated slowly up the ride, he followed them, peering into the gloom, as if in hopes of recognising some old enemy.
'Stand back, Harry Verney; we know you, and we'd be loth to harm an old man,' cried a voice out of the darkness.
'Eh?
Do you think old Harry'd turn back when he was once on the track of ye?
You soft-fisted, gin-drinking, counter-skipping Cockney rascals, that fancy you're to carry the county before you, because you get your fines paid by London-tradesmen! Eh?
What do you take old Harry for ?' 'Go back, you old fool!' and a volley of oaths followed.

'If you follow us, we'll fire at you, as sure as the moon's in heaven!' 'Fire away, then! I'll follow you to--!' and the old man paced stealthily but firmly up to them.
Tregarva saw his danger and sprang forward, but it was too late.
'What, you will have it, then ?' A sharp crack followed,--a bright flash in the darkness--every white birch-stem and jagged oak-leaf shone out for a moment as bright as day--and in front of the glare Lancelot saw the old man throw his arms wildly upward, fall forward, and disappear on the dark ground.
'You've done it! off with you!' And the rascals rushed off up the ride.
In a moment Tregarva was by the old man's side, and lifted him tenderly up.
'They've done for me, Paul.

Old Harry's got his gruel.

He's heard his last shot fired.