"Can you get up and walk ?" There was no answer, but the young man tried to struggle up, and would have sunk down again had not the squire caught him round the waist.
"Poor lad! he's bet out.

Not used to our parts," said Hickathrift.
"Here, howd hard, sir.

Help me get him o' my back like a sack, and I'll run him up to the house i' no time." It seemed the best plan; and as the young man uttered a low moan he was half lifted on to Hickathrift's broad back, and carried toward the house.
"Run on, Dick, and tell your mother to mix a good glass of hollands and water," said the squire.
Dick obeyed, and the steaming glass of hot spirits was ready as the wheelwright bore in his load, and the young man was placed in a chair before the glowing kitchen fire.
"My arm!" he said faintly.
"You wrenched his arm, Hicky," said Dick, "when you dragged him out." "Very sorry, Mester Dick." "Ugh!" cried the lad, who had laid his hand tenderly on their visitor's shoulder.
"What is it ?" cried Mrs Winthorpe.
"Blood.

He has been hurt," said Dick.
"Shot! Here," said the young man in a whisper; and then his head sank down sidewise, and he fainted dead away.
Mr Marston's faintly-uttered words sent a thrill through all present, but no time was wasted.

People who live in out-of-the-way places, far from medical help, learn to be self-reliant, and as soon as Squire Winthorpe realised what was wrong he gave orders for the injured man to be carried to the couch in the dining parlour, where his wet jacket was taken off by the simple process of ripping up the back seam.
"Now, mother, the scissors," said the squire, "and have some bandages ready.