There was only one good thing about them, if indeed it were good, to wit, their faith to one another, and truth to their wild eyry.

But this only made them feared the more, so certain was the revenge they wreaked upon any who dared to strike a Doone.

One night, some ten years ere I was born, when they were sacking a rich man's house not very far from Minehead, a shot was fired at them in the dark, of which they took little notice, and only one of them knew that any harm was done.

But when they were well on the homeward road, not having slain either man or woman, or even burned a house down, one of their number fell from his saddle, and died without so much as a groan.

The youth had been struck, but would not complain, and perhaps took little heed of the wound, while he was bleeding inwardly.