"--It will be imagined that I was
not uninterested in this sort of debate. I made an effort to speak; my
voice failed me. I stretched out one hand with a gesture of entreaty.
"You shall not strike, by God!" said one of the voices; "why should we
be murderers?"--The side of forbearance at length prevailed. They
therefore contented themselves with stripping me of my coat and
waistcoat, and rolling me into a dry ditch. They then left me totally
regardless of my distressed condition, and the plentiful effusion of
blood, which streamed from my wound.
CHAPTER II.
In this woeful situation, though extremely weak, I was not deprived of
sense. I tore my shirt from my naked body, and endeavoured, with some
success, to make of it a bandage to staunch the flowing of the blood. I
then exerted myself to crawl up the side of the ditch. I had scarcely
effected the latter, when, with equal surprise and joy, I perceived a
man advancing at no great distance. I called for help as well as I
could. The man came towards me with evident signs of compassion, and the
appearance I exhibited was indeed sufficiently calculated to excite it.
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