A difficulty of breathing, from one of the
combatants, was heard, accompanied by the stifled moanings of a
strangled man; and directly one of the group arose on his feet, shaking
himself free from the wild grasp of the others. Both Wellmere and the
servant of Lawton had fled: the former to the stables, and the latter to
give the alarm, leaving all in darkness. The figure that stood erect
sprang into the saddle of the unheeded charger; sparks of fire, issuing
from the armed feet of the horse, gave a momentary light by which the
captain was seen dashing like the wind towards the highway.
"By hell, he's off!" cried the leader, hoarse with rage and exhaustion.
"Fire!--bring him down--fire, or you'll be too late."
The order was obeyed, and one moment of suspense followed, in the vain
hope of hearing the huge frame of Lawton tumbling from his steed.
"He would not fall if you had killed him," muttered one. "I've known
these Virginians sit their horses with two or three balls through them;
aye, even after they were dead."
A freshening of the wind wafted the tread of a horse down the valley,
which, by its speed, gave assurance of a rider governing its motion.
"These trained horses always stop when the rider falls," observed one of
the gang.
"Then," cried the leader, striking his musket on the ground in a rage,
"the fellow is safe!--to your business at once.
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