"This way," said an official to some four or five men, who were carrying
a gentleman that appeared to be more seriously injured than any of the
rest. "Lay him down softly on that grassy bank;" then raising his voice
called out, "Is there any medhal man at hand?"

"Here, Draycott, although on leave you must come to the rescue. Horrid
bore to be thus detained, is it not," said Arthur, as they hastened to
the spot.

"Fall back there, men, fall back; give the gentleman more air, and let
the doctor pass." At the decided and authoritative tone of Carlton's
voice the crowd, who by this time had gathered around the sufferer, gave
way. The surgeon went to work immediately and examined the unfortunate
man thoroughly. "Bad case," he said in a whisper to Carlton. "Broken
thigh bone, ribs crushed, and something worse internally, I am afraid."
At this moment Carlton got a good look at the features of the injured
man. "Can it be possible! Yes, it is Sir Ralph Coleman!" At the mention
of his name the Baronet opened his eyes and, for a second or two, looked
fully at the speaker, then said with a great effort, for pain had
hitherto kept him silent:

"Yes, Arthur Carlton, it is I. How came you here? Do not leave me." And
here Sir Ralph fainted from loss of blood.

"Is there a public house or farm near?" enquired Carlton.

"Yes," replied one of the bystanders, "there is farmer Wheatley's just
down there in the hollow; they will do what they can for the poor
gentleman."