"Pooh, nonsense!" ejaculated Mr. Wheatley. "What did he come here for, but to kill you, or be killed himself? We had better make the best of our way to my buggy, and get home as soon as possible, for I suspect the ball is still in your arm, and we must send for the surgeon."
"I will see how he is, first," I answered; and walked quietly up to the spot where my antagonist lay. His friends were perfectly gentlemanly and polite; and the two who were standing up bowed civilly as I approached.
"I am afraid he is gone, Sir Richard," said one of them.
"I hope not," I replied, with a sensation I cannot describe. "I can assure you I did not intend it; I only sought to wound him."
"You did that at the first fire," answered the other. "See here--your second shot has gone through his chest." I now perceived that the blood was streaming from one wound in the fleshy part of the back, just below the shoulder-blade, and behind the right arm. This seemed of no great consequence; for it was clear it had not penetrated the chest; but there was another wound much more formidable in appearance, where the ball had entered the side, just in front of the arm, and had issued out at the other side a little further forward. That it had touched the lungs I could not doubt; but though I do not know much of anatomy, I felt sure that the heart must have escaped, notwithstanding the death-like paleness of his face, and the state of complete insensibility in which he lay. I knelt down, and put my fingers on his wrist; the pulse was very feeble, but still beating free, and I said,--
"Gentlemen, he is not dead, and I should hope will soon recover. If you would take my advice, you would try and restrain the bleeding as much as possible. Get him to the nearest house, and send for a surgeon immediately. The shaking of a carriage may produce great hemorrhage; but there are a number of negroes about who can carry him more easily."
"Hi, boys!" cried Billy Byles; "come here, come here!" And immediately at least a dozen black men and lads ran out from the woods towards the scene of action.
"You had better get home yourself, sir," said the gentleman who had before spoken to me; "for I see you also are wounded, and the blood is running off the tips of your fingers. One thing I will say, Sir Richard; a fairer fight I never beheld. You have behaved quite like a gentleman, and a man of honour, and a d----d good shot too." Seeing that I could be of no further service, I bowed and retired from the ground. As we walked along through the little path in the wood, it became a question where I was to go. Mr. Byles wanted me to return with him to his house; but Mr. Wheatley, more prudently, urged that I should go back at once to Mr. Stringer's. "It is nearer by a mile," he said; "and, besides, he will have plenty of women there to take care of him. He-nurses are always bad ones, my friend; and, moreover, there may be certain persons who may tease their little hearts to death, to know how he is going on, who would not venture to come to the house of a gay bachelor to see him." This latter argument was very conclusive in my own mind; but I made light of the wound, saying, "Oh, this is a mere nothing. I shall be well in a few days." Although, to say sooth, I felt very unpleasantly faint. We soon reached the carriage, which we found tied to a tree; for Zed, it appears, would not be debarred the pleasure of sharing in the day's sport. He came hobbling after us, the next instant, however; untied the horses, placed the pistol-case under the seat, and after fumbling for a minute in a corner, produced an old champagne-bottle, which he held out to me, saying,--
"Here, master, take a drop o' dis--good old rye; you look mighty white, and bleeding like piggie. My ole massa never go out to fight without taking some rye wid him in case of de worse." I took some of the whisky, which, to say the truth, was not altogether unnecessary, for I had lost a good deal of blood. Then, requesting my two companions to tie the handkerchief still tighter, I got into the carriage, and we drove off towards Mr. Stringer's.