With wild cries the men turned their horses about and set off after Green and Cyril.
It was a most unequal chase. The doubly-laden horse could not by any chance escape the pursuers, who gained ground every moment.
Encouraging it by word and by every other means in his power Green rode on, but with little hope in his heart.
Nearer and nearer came the pursuers, laughing and shouting as their horses flew over the plain.
"Come, Jack! Jack, old fellow, for pity's sake!" cried Green.
Tossing his head, with flakes of foam flying from his mouth, the horse dashed on.
But still the followers gained a little more.
"Jack, old fellow!" There was something despairing now in Green's appeal to the animal.
Neighing loudly, as if in answer, the horse galloped even faster than before. His hoofs scarcely seemed to touch the ground. It was all Cyril could do to hold on to his friend.
"Stop! stop! stop, or we fire!" cried a stentorian voice.