"Had we not better leave our horses," said Henry, "and make for the
hills across the fields, on our left? The fence will stop our pursuers."
"That way lies the gallows," returned the peddler. "These fellows go
three feet to our two, and would mind the fences no more than we do
these ruts; but it is a short quarter to the turn, and there are two
roads behind the wood. They may stand to choose until they can take the
track, and we shall gain a little upon them there."
"But this miserable horse is blown already," cried Henry, urging his
beast with the end of his bridle, at the same time that Harvey aided his
efforts by applying the lash of a heavy riding whip he carried. "He will
never stand it for half a mile farther."
"A quarter will do; a quarter will do," said the peddler, "a single
quarter will save us, if you follow my directions."
Somewhat cheered by the cool and confident manner of his companion,
Henry continued silently urging his horse forward. A few moments brought
them to the desired turn, and as they doubled round a point of low
underbrush, the fugitives caught a glimpse of their pursuers scattered
along the highway. Mason and the sergeant, being better mounted than the
rest of the party, were much nearer to their heels than even the peddler
thought could be possible.
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