almost at the same instant another dashed his pistol through the
side-glass into the chaise, full in Sir Arthur's face.

Frank was on my side--Notwithstanding the length of the journey, he
seemed to infuse his own ardour into the spirited animal on which he
rode, and was round instantaneously--It was really dreadful!--The
highwayman saw, or rather heard him coming, for it was prodigiously
dark, and fired. Poor Frank was shot!--In the shoulder--But he says he
did not feel it at first--He returned the fire; and the highwayman
exclaimed, with a shocking oath, 'I am a dead man!' He rode away
however full speed; and his associate, who stood to guard the post-boy,
rode after him. Frank imagines that, owing to the darkness of the
night, and his being so close under the chaise, they had not perceived
him when they came to the attack.

But here let me tell you, for I am sure I ought, our protector, our
hero is not dangerously wounded. He indeed makes very light of it; but
I am persuaded he would do that if he had lost an arm. The moment the
highwaymen were gone, he rode round to me to intreat me not to be
alarmed, for that all was safe.

Imagine whether I did not thank him, and bless him; at least in
ejaculation. Imagine what I felt, after what I _had_ heard, at hearing
him talk to me, and at being convinced that he was actually alive. I
had not the least suspicion of his being wounded, he spoke so
cheerfully; yet I naturally enquired if he were hurt. His answer
was--'No no--Not _hurt_'--But he spoke with an emphasis that
immediately raised my apprehensions. I repeated my question--'Are you
sure you are not hurt; not wounded?' He could not say no to that, and
therefore answered 'He believed he felt a slight contusion in the