The quarry was on foot, he was known to be wounded, he must fall an easy prey to his trackers soon enough: sometimes in the distance there would come a shout of triumph, when the human blood-hounds had at last found a scent, then Sir Humphrey would rouse himself from his moody silence, a look of keen malice would light up his deep-set eyes, and reining in his horse, he would strain his ears to hear that shout of triumph again.
"He'll not escape this time, Sir Humphrey," whispered Mittachip, falling obsequiously into his employer's mood.
"No! curse him!" muttered his Honour with a string of violent oaths, "I shall see him hang before two days are over, unless these dolts let him escape again."
"Nay, nay, Sir Humphrey! that's not likely!" chuckled Master Mittachip. "Squire West has pressed all his own able-bodied men into the service, and the posse of soldiers were most keen for the chase. Nay, nay, he'll not escape this time."
"'Sdeath!" swore his Honour under his breath, "but I do feel stiff!"
"A dreadful indignity," moaned the attorney.
"Nay! but Squire West was most distressed, and his apologies were profuse! Indeed he seemed to feel it as much as if it had happened to himself."
"Aye! but not in the same place, I'll warrant! Odd's life, I had no notion how much a turnip could hurt when flung into one's eye," added his Honour, with one of those laughs that never boded any good.
"A most painful incident, Sir Humphrey!" sighed Mittachip, brimming over with sympathy.
"'Twas not the incident that was painful! Zounds! I am bruised all over. But I'll have the law of every one of those dolts, aye! and make that fool West administer it on all of them! As for that ape, the beadle, he shall be publicly whipped. Death and hell! they'll have to pay for this!"