Hickory's eye, which had taken a rapid survey of his companion's form during the utterance of the above, darkened, then he slowly shook his head.
"You couldn't," he rejoined laconically. "Too little staying power; you'd give out before you got clear of the woods. Better delegate the job to me."
"To you?"
"Yes. I'm of the make to stand long runs; besides I am no novice at athletic sports of any kind. More than one race has owed its interest to the efforts of your humble servant. 'Tis my pet amusement, you see, as off-hand drawing is yours, and is likely to be of as much use to me, eh?"
"Hickory, you are chaffing me."
"Think so? Do you see that five-barred gate over there? Well, now keep your eye on the top rail and see if I clear it without a graze or not."
"Stop!" exclaimed Mr. Byrd, "don't make a fool of yourself in the public street. I'll believe you if you say you understand such things."
"Well, I do, and what is more, I'm an adept at them. If I can't make that run in the time requisite to show that Mansell could have committed the murder, and yet arrive at the station the moment he did, I don't know of a chap who can."
"Hickory, do you mean to say you will make this run?"
"Yes."