"I can't do it, 381; go on without me!"
Rupert turned back and, taking him by the arm, pulled him down into a little hollow behind a huge furze-bush and laid him on his back.
"You're only winded; we have run over a mile; you'll get your second wind in a minute," he whispered. "But we must not wait here a moment longer than absolutely necessary. If the fog should lift now, we are certain to be taken. I am going to make for Hartland Tor, which is close to my father's house; there is an old, disused mine below the tor in which we can hide for the present."
Boom! A dull explosion echoed across the hills.
"What's that?" exclaimed 303.
"The alarm," Rupert replied. "We have not a moment to lose."
CHAPTER XVI.
"YOU'VE KILLED HIM."
Again the dull boom echoed over the moorland. In a few minutes the hill would be swarming with warders searching for them.
Rupert felt a thrill of excitement. The first thrill he had experienced for many weeks. Curious thoughts and memories flashed through his brain as he raced along shoulder to shoulder with Convict 303, who kept closely to his side in spite of the steep ascent. He remembered as a boy hunting with a pack of harriers which sometimes met at The Hall; he used to ride a rough moorland pony. This thrill of being hunted was somewhat similar to the thrill of hunting. As a boy he had always had a sneaking sympathy with the quarry, and a vague hope, he was always ashamed to express, that it might escape. He understood now. It was far finer to be hunted than to hunt.