It was quite dark, and I was carefully picking my way, when there was a puff of smoke from a bed of reeds, a loud report, and I seemed to feel a tremendous blow; and I remember no more till I came to, feeling sick and faint, and managed to crawl along till I saw the lights of the farm here, and cried for help." "Great heavens!" cried the squire.
"Didn't you see any one ?" cried Mrs Winthorpe.
"No, nothing but the smoke from the reeds.

I feel rather faint now--if you will let me rest." With the help of Dick and his father the young engineer was assisted to his bed, where he seemed to drop at once into a heavy sleep; and, satisfied that there was nothing to fear for some time, the squire returned to the parlour looking very serious, while Dick watched him intently to see what he would say.
"This is very dreadful, my dear," whispered Mrs Winthorpe at last.
"Have we some strange robber in the fen ?" "Don't know," said the squire shortly.

"Perhaps some one has a spite against him." "How dreadful!" said Mrs Winthorpe.
"One of his men perhaps." "Or a robber," cried Dick excitedly.

"Why, father, we might get Dave and John Warren and Hicky and some more, and hunt him down." "Robbers rob," said the squire laconically.
"Of course, my dear," said Mrs Winthorpe; "and it would be dreadful to think of.

Why, we could never go to our beds in peace." "But Mr Marston's watch and money are all right, my dear.