Suddenly his expert ear, reliable as a Sioux Indian's, caught the ring of a horseshoe on the road.
He had hardly concluded that the animal was coming at the gallop than he saw it appear on a hilltop four hundred paces off.
Fear which had for a space abandoned Pitou, seized him afresh, and restored him the use of those long if unshapely legs with which he had made such marvellous good time a couple of hours previously.
Without reflecting, looking behind or trying to hide his fright, Ange cleared the ditch on one side and darted through the woods to Ermenonville. He did not know the place but he spied some tall trees and reasoned that, if they were on the skirts of a forest, he was saved.
This time he had to beat a horse; Pitou's feet had become wings.
He went all the faster as on glancing over his shoulder, he saw the horseman jump the hedge and ditch from the highway.
He had no more doubts that the rider was after him so that he not only doubled his pace but he dreaded to lose anything by looking behind.
But the animal, superior to the biped in running, gained on him, and Pitou heard the rider plainly calling him by name.
Nearly overtaken, still he struggled till the cut of a whip crossed his legs, and a well-known voice thundered:
"Blame you, you idiot—have you made a vow to founder Younker?"