recognized for dried blood.

"Harry! Harry dear!"

"Plinny!" I raced back through the garden, and almost fell into her
arms as she came along the path between the currant-bushes in search
of me. "Plinny--oh, Plinny!" I gasped.

"My dear child, what has happened?"

Before I could answer there came wafted to our ears from eastward a
sound of distant shouting, and almost simultaneously, from the
high-road near at hand, the trit-trot of hoofs approaching at great
speed from westward, and the "Who-oop!" of a man's voice, lusty on
the morning air.

"That will be Mr. Jack Rogers," said Plinny. "He brings us news, for
certain! Yes; he is reining up."

We ran through the house together, and reached the front door in time
to witness a most extraordinary scene.

Mr. Jack Rogers's tilbury had run past the house and come to a halt a
short gunshot beyond, where it stood driverless--for Mr. Jack Rogers
had dismounted, and was gesticulating with both arms to stop a man
racing down the road to meet him. A moment later, as this runner
came on, a second hove in sight over the rise of the road behind
him--a short figure, so stout and round that in the distance it
resembled not so much a man as a ball rolling in pursuit.