'I can't speak yet. Wait a bit, and I will tell'y.'
In the meantime Sampson Trampleasure was running. He stopped his flight after he had gone some little distance, and looked back. He saw Herring bowed over the prostrate man, opening his waistcoat and uncovering his breast. With a curse, he turned and ran on.
Flamank, with tails flying, waving the brown shawl like a lasso over his head, ran after him, shouting, 'Heigh! stop, Mr. Sampson! stop! You have killed the constable! You must be hung! Stay and let me catch you!'
'Try to stand,' said Herring to the constable. He lifted him to his feet.
'I be the father of fourteen, and another coming,' said the poor man. He was dreadfully frightened; he peered about him in all directions.
'And the eldest fifteen,' he murmured. 'Be you sure the murderous ruffian be out o' harm's way?'
'Certain. Have you been hit?'
'Ay, I have.'
'Then where?'
'Here,' said the constable, holding up his hat.