"Still he will get away if he is not immediately pursued. Come—who'll follow?"
"Into this carriage, boy!" cried a man. "I have a little horse here that will give him a hot chase. Come on!"
"I am the constable," said another man, with great dignity. "I'll foller as soon as I can get a boss saddled."
Realizing that the boy was not seriously hurt, half of those who had been lingering about the station made a rush to join in the pursuit of the murderous stranger. All kinds of teams were pressed into use, and the road was soon filled with a string of pursuers.
Looking back anxiously, the man in black saw them coming, and he grated his teeth fiercely, for he had already discovered that the horse he had appropriated was seriously lamed.
"Let 'em come!" he cried. "I'll not be taken easily! I have the key to a fortune in my pocket, and I will escape with it, if it is in me to do so!"
Ruthlessly and cruelly he pricked the lame mare with the keen point of the knife, which he still held in his hand, and a trail of dust rose behind him.
Out of the village and into the country the lame horse bore the fugitive. Not far from Fardale was a big stone quarry, and, by chance, the man had selected the road which skirted the jagged hole in the ground.
His pursuers were gaining on him, and he continued to use the knife mercilessly as the horse bore him along the road past the quarry.
Of a sudden a large dog bounded into the road in front of the man in black, and the horse which the man bestrode gave a snort and whirled sideways, coming with a crash against the rail which ran along by the roadside.