“We’ve got a start, any way,” Quest observed, “and these are the five best horses in the camp. Girls, a little faster. We’ve got to trust Craig for the direction but I believe he is right.”
“So far as my instinct tells me,” the Professor agreed, “I believe that we are heading in precisely the right direction.”
They galloped steadily on. The moon rose higher and higher until it became almost as light as day. Often the Professor raised himself in his saddle and peered forward.
“This column of soldiers would march at night,” he remarked. “I am hoping all the time that we may meet them.”
Quest fell a little behind to his side, although he never left off watching Craig.
“Look behind you, Professor,” he whispered.
In the far distance were a number of little black specks, growing every moment larger. Even at that moment they heard the low, long call of the Mongars.
“They are gaining on us,” Quest muttered.
The two girls, white though they were, bent over their horses.
“We’ll stick to it till the last moment,” Quest continued, “then we’ll turn and let them have it.”