“I'll try, though; and do you lumber after as you can, old heavysides;” and Cary pushed forward.
Amyas lost sight of him for ten minutes, and then came up with him dismounted, and feeling disconsolately at his horse's knees.
“Look for my head. It lies somewhere about among the furze there; and oh! I am as full of needles as ever was a pin-cushion.”
“Are his knees broken?”
“I daren't look. No, I believe not. Come along, and make the best of a bad matter. The fellow is a mile ahead, and to the right, too.”
“He is going for Moorwinstow, then; but where is my cousin?”
“Behind us, I dare say. We shall nab him at least.”
“Cary, promise me that if we do, you will keep out of sight, and let me manage him.”
“My boy, I only want Evan Morgans and Morgan Evans. He is but the cat's paw, and we are after the cats themselves.”
And so they went on another dreary six miles, till the land trended downwards, showing dark glens and masses of woodland far below.