Rupert drew his rein.

“I would not hurt you, my poor fellow,” he said in Dutch.

The man did not understand, but the gentleness of the tone showed him that no harm was meant, and he again flung himself down by his wife.

“I do not think that she is dead, Hugh,” Rupert said.  “Hold my horse, I will soon see.”

So saying, he dismounted and knelt by the woman.  There was a wound on her forehead, and her face was covered with blood.  Rupert ran to a stream that trickled by the side of the road, dipped his handkerchief in water, and returning, wiped the blood from the face and wound.

“It is a pistol bullet, I imagine,” he said to him; “but I do not think the ball has entered her head; it has, I think, glanced off.  Fasten the horses up to that rail, Hugh, get some water in your hands, and dash it in her face.”

The peasant paid no attention to what was being done, but sat absorbed in grief; mechanically patting the child beside him.

“That’s it, Hugh.  Now another.  I do believe she is only stunned.  Give me that flask of spirits out of my holster.”

Hugh again dashed water in the woman’s face, and Rupert distinctly saw a quiver in her eyelid as he did so.  Then forcing open her teeth, he poured a little spirit into her mouth, and was in a minute rewarded by a gasping sigh.

“She lives,” he exclaimed, shaking the peasant by the shoulder.

The man looked round stupidly, but Rupert pointed to his wife, and again poured some spirits between her lips.  This time she made a slight movement and opened her eyes.  The peasant gave a wild scream of delight, and poured forth a volume of words, of which Rupert understood nothing; but the peasant kneeling beside him, bent his forehead till it touched the ground, and then kissed the lappet of his coat—­an action expressive of the intensity of his gratitude.

Rupert continued his efforts until the woman was able to sit up, and look round with a frightened and bewildered air.  When her eye caught her husband, she burst into tears; and as Hugh raised the baby and placed it in her arms she clasped it tightly, and rocked to and fro, sobbing convulsively.

“Look, Hugh, see if you can find something like a spade in that little garden.  Let us bury this poor little child.”

Hugh soon found a spade, and dug a little grave in the corner of a garden under the shade of an old tree.

Then the lads returned to the spot where the husband and wife, quiet now, were sitting hand in hand crying together.  Rupert made a sign to him to lift the body of his little girl, and then led the way to the little grave.  The father laid her in, and then fell on his knees by it with his wife, and prayed in a loud voice, broken with sobs.  Rupert and Hugh stood by uncovered, until the peasant had finished.  Then the little grave was filled in; and Rupert, pointing to the ruined house, placed five gold pieces in the woman’s hand.  Then they mounted their horses again and rode on, the man and his wife both kneeling by the roadside praying for blessings on their heads.