It wor close by Disley wood they found 'em.

And there's one ov 'is men they've sent off ridin' for the inspector--here he come, miss! Come out o' th' way!" They dragged her back, and a young labourer galloped past them on a farm colt, urging it on to its full pace, his face red and set.
"Who is found ?" cried Marcella--"What is it ?" "Westall, miss--Lor' bless you--Shot him in the head they did--blowed his brains right out--and Charlie Dynes--oh! he's knocked about shamful--the doctor don't give no hopes of him.

Oh deary--deary me! And we're goin' for Muster Harden--ee must tell the widder--or Miss Mary--none on us can!" "And who did it ?" said Marcella, pale with horror, holding her.
"Why the poachers, miss.

Them as they've bin waitin' for all along--and they do say as Jim Hurd's in it.

Oh Lord, oh Lord!" Marcella stood petrified, and let them hurry on..