Bideabout was uneasy. The tale he had told was untenable. There was a necessity for it to be supplemented. But his condition of alarm and pain made him unable readily to frame a story that would account for all, and satisfy his sister.
"Jonas," said Sarah, "I'm sure you have seen Matabel, and she did this for you. Where is she?"
Bideabout trembled. He thrust his sister from him, saying, irritably, "Why do you worrit me with questions? My arm wants attendin' to."
"I can't do much to that," answered the woman. "A doctor should look to that. I'll go and call Samuel, and bid him ride away after one."
"I won't be left alone!" exclaimed the Broom-Squire, in a sudden access of terror.
Sarah Rocliffe deliberately took the lantern and held it to his face.
"Jonas," she said, "I'll do nuthin' more for you till I know the whole truth. You've seen your wife and there's somethin' passed between you. I see by your manner that all is not right. Where is Matabel? You haven't been after the deer on the Moor. You have been to the Ship."
"That is a lie," answered Bideabout. "I have been on the Moor. 'Tis there I got shot, and, if you will have it all out, it was Matabel who shot me."
"Matabel shot you?"
"Yes, it was. She shot me to prevent me from killin' him."