The morning times., 1897-02-27

taSe, and went off at a round gallon do wn
-1hc road.
God, but he's got the scent Of u.s. cried
the sergeant. Now. lads!'
They clattered DOWN the hfl. The
moon was up brisk wind had blown
away the last rags OF mist and the road
lay white before them The fugitive
was good furEong ahead, but clearly
visible TO them otwithstanding They
passed by Hannah Wray's cottage. dark
and silent, the rabble on foot following
molly. Down into the valley they went
riding abreast Their shadows danced on
before. They rode in silence, save when
horse slipped or SHE'D and needed a
kindly word. n mile the fugitive mad
doubled his lead ana was beyond their
ken The sergeant swore Justify, and
putting Oh pace, drew ahead Of his fellows
His was the best horse. But at a Cross
| road he was forced 10 await his tagging
men and call @ halt
Rack me If | know which way the
rascars gone!' he growled. Keep your
horses still IA moment. Hark!"
He lowered his head and listened At
once the night seemed thick with noises
An old corncrake in some frs at hand
smaller birds in the trees and hedges
twitted in low, sleepy protest The horses
ratified their bits. An owl hooted mourn
fully In the bitches the rushing water
purled and bubbled merrily. The trees
ruStled in the breeze. Two dogs from rival
farmhouses struggled for the last bark.
The sergeant fingered his chin ruefully
lhree roads three Inen," he
said, at last. ITO the right, you! To the
left. you! I'll go forward!'
AS those in the van of the townfolk came
toiling up the soldiers separated
The sergeant gaIloped on, praying that
the luck OF capture might befall him.
after all.
twas darker now. A rack of clouds sail
ing up swiftly from the west blurred the
moon. He rode three miles and came to
an inn on the outskirts OF a sleeping village
Here he learned, to his comfort. that a
horseman had passed chat way ONLY a
minute or so before.
'Good!' he chuckled, and was off again,
pellmen in the darkness
The night thickene momently The
moon was now hidden altogether and Il
brisk wind blew. In half an hourit began
to rain, softly at first, then harder and
faster, until from sky to earth the air
seemed changed to water. Stin the ser
geant rode ganely on, swearing a little
to ease his growing spleen, but quite un-
daunted. The road he followed was bad
at the best of times; now it became wicked
and malicious. At every plunge of the
horse a shower of sticky clods rose in a
fountain of mud, bespattering his face.
But the fun story of that stern
ride through four wide counties and inop-
perfume storm is too long to be told here.
The sergeant kept in the fugitive's wake
until two hours past midnight, when his
weary horse fcn lame. He led the spent
beast into Tigbury as the clocks struck
three. From the villagers he lea rned
that the convict had passed through the
town, going slowly, just two hours before.
Nothing disheartened, the sergeant, after
much bullying and supplication, borrowed
fresh, strong mount, and rode on.
The sun was well up when the sergeant,
topping a height of th e South Downs, at last
caught sight OF the fugitive, who had now
dismounted and misleading his tired horse
by the bride. The sergeant whooped in tri-
umph and bore do wn swift yon his difficult
prey.
"Stay, there!' he shouted.
The plodding figure of the convict neither
turned nor stopped nor altered pace, but
kept on doggedly, as before, slowly draw
ing the horse forward. The sergeant
rode on ahead, drew his sword and dis
mounted. The fugitive stopped suddenly
and hung his head. He was clad in short
cloak, obscuring all save his hat and boots
and breeches.
ut was pluoky business, lad'' said the
sergeant, gayly, drawing near with conn
mendable wariness. Pom my honor, but
I'm sorry to have caught you.''
His quarry laughed. softly, sweetly, ma