Glass stood still. He looked towards Sir Randolph, who, having lowered his gun and instinctively unloaded it, stood in the same petrified position as he did. Both men took several hasty steps forward, then stopped at the same moment. There was silence – everyone seemed to be standing still – then the sound of people moving through the wood and a shout passed along the line of beaters towards Glass: ‘The stop. The stop’s been shot.’

Glass broke into a run. He caught up with Sir Randolph as the latter threw his gun towards Charlie Pass, saying, ‘Stay there, will you?’ Charlie caught the gun and stayed where he stood. Sir Randolph and Mr Glass ran along beside the wood together.

‘Tell them to keep back,’ said Sir Randolph.

‘Keep back,’ said Glass, as they passed Walter Weir pushing his way out of the bushes. ‘Tell them to keep back, Walter.’

The men were coming out of the wood in twos and threes. Walter Weir held out an arm. ‘Keep back. Don’t crowd.’

Some were already gathered in a small group at the edge of the wood looking down. Gilbert Hartlip was with them. As Glass and Sir Randolph approached Dan, who had been on his knees, stood up and turned towards them. He was pale and seemed to his father to be covered in blood.

‘What happened?’ Glass seized his blood-soaked sleeve. ‘Are you all right?’

Dan looked down.

‘It’s Tom.’

Glass saw that there was a figure lying on the grass and that Sir Randolph was already kneeling beside it.

‘I thought ’twas you. You was stop, wasn’t you?’

‘There were two of us. Tom Harker said one wasn’t enough. We were crossing each other, going up and down.’

Glass nodded. He was very white and breathing heavily. Dan looked away.

Tom Harker was lying on his side, with both hands over his face. Blood was pouring through his fingers.

‘My eyes,’ he said in a loud voice. ‘Don’t want to lose my eyes.’

‘Just turn over a little onto your back and let’s have a look.’

Sir Randolph took a clean white handkerchief out of his coat pocket, then took off his coat and rolled it into a pillow. ‘Let’s just take your hands away for a moment. That’s the way.’

He held Tom Harker’s bloody hands in his and looked into his face. The shot had caught him on the left side of his face which was bleeding copiously; his eye was closed. It was impossible to tell the extent of the injury without cleaning the wounds. Sir Randolph folded the handkerchief, placed it over the injured side of the face and put Tom’s left hand over it.

‘Hold that and we’ll get you home. Who’s the fastest runner here?’

‘I am, Sir Randolph.’

‘Go and get Doctor West as fast as you can.’

Dan was off across the field at once. Glass looked after him in a bewildered way as if he were still not quite able to take in what had happened, and saw a vaguely familiar figure which had been standing by a tree move forward to speak to the boy.