"Forward; it is nearest that way to a hamlet."

"Does he breathe yet?"

"No; he is quite dead."

Gathering up the body of Hadley, they bore it along in silence toward the
nearest habitations of men, some five miles ahead.

The two had proceeded with their burden but a short distance, when they
were suddenly startled by a groan from the wounded man, who they had
supposed was dead. They laid him down carefully, and one of them produced a
flask, from which he poured a little brandy on his lips, and the stimulant
penetrating his mouth, revived Hadley, and this, with the aid of other
restoratives, soon brought him to consciousness. Seeing he was not dead,
his companions now dressed his wounds as well as they could, under the
circumstances. It was soon perceived that they were not of a very dangerous
order. One bullet had struck a button and glanced off, leaving only a
bruise on the breast; the other had penetrated the chest, but not in a
fatal direction. The fall from his horse had stunned Hadley; there was also
a mark on the side of his head, indicating that the horse had struck him
with his foot, adding materially to the effect of the fall. After his
wounds were properly dressed, he was assisted into his saddle, and,
supported by his benefactors, was enabled to ride to the next village,
where he received every attention, and was so far recovered in a week as to
proceed on his journey. His escape was almost miraculous, and seemed a
direct interposition of Providence. On the previous day he had assisted the
two men out of a difficulty before a magistrate, where they were accused of
the crime of setting fire to a man's house on the previous night. It so
happened that they were not guilty of the act as charged, but had passed