He was the fastest man but one South of Thames that day, and how was he to know that one was after him?
If he was not aware of it, Kit, watching with all his eyes, was.
The Gentleman was hounding at the other's heels, swift, silent, terrible.
"Run!" screamed the boy.
The rifleman glanced over his shoulder.
"God A'mighty!" he yelled. "E's catchin me."
The light went out of his face. Fists and knees woke to sudden life and began to hammer furiously. The long easy swing became a terrific pitter-patter. Flinging back his head, he set himself to run the race of his life.
IV
Knapp was naked, and trained to a tick.
The Gentleman was the faster, and the slope helped his long legs; but he was booted and spurred.