At the same instant,
the stentorian voice of Lawton rang through the valley, shouting,--
"Harvey Birch--take him, dead or alive!"
Fifty pistols lighted the scene, and the bullets whistled in every
direction round the head of the devoted peddler. A feeling of despair
seized his heart, and in the bitterness of that moment he exclaimed,--
"Hunted like a beast of the forest!"
He felt life and its accompaniments to be a burden, and was about to
yield himself to his enemies. Nature, however, prevailed. If taken,
there was great reason to apprehend that he would not be honored with
the forms of a trial, but that most probably the morning sun would
witness his ignominious execution; for he had already been condemned to
death, and had only escaped that fate by stratagem. These
considerations, with the approaching footsteps of his pursuers, roused
him to new exertions. He again fled before them. A fragment of a wall,
that had withstood the ravages made by war in the adjoining fences of
wood, fortunately crossed his path. He hardly had time to throw his
exhausted limbs over this barrier, before twenty of his enemies reached
its opposite side. Their horses refused to take the leap in the dark,
and amid the confusion of the rearing chargers, and the execrations of
their riders, Birch was enabled to gain a sight of the base of the hill,
on whose summit was a place of perfect security.
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