Jack could hear nothing to denote that there was any one in the vicinity, and was feeling of his limbs to ascertain the amount of injury done, when a shrill, tremulous voice from the doorway cried,—
"Jack! Jack dear! Are you hurt much?"
"I'm afraid I'm shot. It seems as if I was bleedin' dreadful!"
"Wait till I can light the lantern, my poor boy"; and the door was closed and locked again.
By this time Jack had fully persuaded himself he was seriously wounded, and wondered how long it would be before the pain came.
Two minutes later Aunt Nancy, partially dressed and with an odd little lantern in her hand, emerged very cautiously from the house.
The fear Jack might be fatally injured was greater than that of the supposed burglars. Her desire to aid others conquered her timidity, and the only thought was to bring relief as speedily as possible.
"Mercy on us! What a dreadful thing!" Aunt Nancy exclaimed as she arrived at the place where Jack was lying at full length on the ground. "Tell me where you are hurt, my poor child."
"I don't know; but it seems as if somethin' tough must have happened, for I'm bleedin' terribly."
The little woman knelt by his side, and held the lantern up until its rays illumined the boy's face.