"Then we must to his assistance!" exclaimed Butler, eagerly; and without waiting for further consultation he set off at full speed, in the supposed direction of John Ramsay's pursuit. The rest followed. They had ridden some distance without being able to perceive any traces of their missing companion. Butler called aloud upon Ramsay, but there was no answer; and, for some moments, there was an anxious suspense as the party halted to listen for the sound of the footsteps of the trooper's approach. At length, a horse was seen far off in the wood, bounding over the turf at a wild and frightened pace; the saddle was empty, and the bridle-rein hung about his feet. On seeing his companions, the excited steed set up a frequent neigh, and, with head and tail erect, coursed immediately up to the group of horsemen. Here he came to a sudden halt, snorting with the terror of his late alarm. There were drops of blood upon the saddle.
"Gracious Heaven!" cried Butler, "some evil has befallen Ramsay. Scatter and search the wood."
It was with confused and melancholy earnestness that they all now continued the quest. After a painful suspense, one of the men was heard to shout to the rest that their lost comrade was found. The summons soon brought the party together. Ramsay, pale and faint, was stretched upon the grass of the forest, his bosom streaming forth a current of blood. In an instant Butler was seen stooping over him.
"Oh, this is a heavy ransom, for my deliverance!" he said with the deepest anguish, as he raised the trooper's head and laid it on his lap, whilst the blood flowed from the wound. "Speak, dear friend, speak! Great God, I fear this blow is mortal! Some water, if it can be found—look for it, Winter; he has fainted from loss of blood."
Whilst Harry Winter went in search of the necessary refreshment, Butler tore his cravat from his neck and applied it to staunch the wound. The administration of a slight draught of water, after a short interval, sufficiently revived the disabled soldier to enable him to speak. He turned his sickly and almost quenched eye to Butler, as he said:
"I was foolish to follow so far. I have it here—here," he added in a feeble voice, as he put his hand upon his breast, "and it has done my work. I fought for you, major, because I was proud to fight for a friend; and because"—here his voice failed him, as for a moment he closed his eyes and faintly uttered—"it is all over—I am dying."
"Nay, good John," said Butler, whilst the tears ran down his cheeks; "it is not so bad as that—you are weak from bleeding—you will be better presently. Oh God! oh God!" he muttered to himself, "I would not have had this to save my own life, much less as the price of my liberty!"
"I fought for you," said the wounded man, again reviving, "because Mary wished it. This will kill Mary," he added after a pause. "She warned me not to be rash, but I could not help it. Be kind to her, Major Butler, and take care of her. Tell her I did not fear to die; but for her sake, and for the sake of my poor mother. Go to my parents; let them know I thought of them in my last thoughts."
"John! John!" exclaimed Butler, unable to give further utterance to his feelings.
The dying trooper lay for some moments silent, and his comrades stood around him in mute grief, and hung their heads to conceal their emotions from each other.