perfectly dark, it was sufficiently obscure to screen our countenances.
Just as Tyrrell approached, Thornton dashed forward, and cried, in a
feigned voice--'Stand, on your peril!' I followed, and we were now both
by Sir John's side.

"He attempted to push by us--but Thornton seized him by the arm--there
was a stout struggle, in which, as yet, I had no share--at last, Tyrrell
got loose from Thornton, and I seized him--he set spurs to his horse,
which was a very spirited and strong animal--it reared upwards, and very
nearly brought me and my horse to the ground--at that instant, Thornton
struck the unfortunate man a violent blow across the head with the butt
end of his heavy whip--Sir John's hat had fallen before in the struggle,
and the blow was so stunning that it felled him upon the spot. Thornton
dismounted, and made me do the same--'There is no time to lose,' said he;
'let us drag him from the roadside and rifle him.' We accordingly carried
him (he was still senseless) to the side of the pond before mentioned--
while we were searching for the money Thornton spoke of, the storm
ceased, and the moon broke out--we were detained some moments by the
accident of Tyrrell's having transferred his pocket-book from the pocket
Thornton had seen him put it in on the race ground to an inner one.

"We had just discovered, and seized the pocket-book, when Sir John awoke
from his swoon, and his eyes opened upon Thornton, who was still bending
over him, and looking at the contents of the book to see that all was
right; the moonlight left Tyrrell in no doubt as to our persons; and
struggling hard to get up, he cried, 'I know you! I know you! you shall
hang for this.' No sooner had he uttered this imprudence, than it was all
over with him. 'We will see that, Sir John,' said Thornton, setting his
knee upon Tyrrell's chest, and nailing him down. While thus employed, he
told me to feel in his coat-pocket for a case-knife.