He spared her many an injury by
taking it himself. More than once she murmured sympathy when he
crashed into a tree or floundered over a log. The soft, long-drawn "o-
ohs!" that came to his ears were full of a music that made him
impervious to pain. They had the effect of martial music on him, as
the drum and fife exalts the faltering soldier in his march to death.
Utterly at sea, he was now guessing at the course they were taking.
Whether their frantic dash was leading them toward the Tavern, or
whether they were circling back to Green Fancy, he knew not. Panting,
he forged onward, his ears alert not only for the sound of pursuit but
for the shot that would end the career of the spectacular Sprouse.
At last she cried out, quaveringly:
"Oh, I--I can go no farther! Can't we--is it not safe to stop for a
moment? My breath is--"
"God bless you, yes," he exclaimed, and came to an abrupt stop. She
leaned heavily against him, gasping for breath. "I haven't the
faintest idea where we are, but we must be some distance from the
house. We will rest a few minutes and then take it easier, more
cautiously. I am sorry, but it was the only thing to do, rough as it
was."
"I know, I understand.
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