The captain did not deign to notice it.
“Go on,” he said, spurring up his horse, “and run your best, or you’ll find yourself dragged.”
He set off at a slow trot, the prisoner running alongside, with surprising power, and took the road to Derryfield.
CHAPTER V.
TURNING THE TABLES.
Captain Adrian Schuyler pursued his way toward Derryfield, pistol in hand, keeping a vigilant watch over his prisoner. The altercation on the road had detained him so long that the sun had kissed the mountain tops ere he had crossed the valley, and a dark shadow had crept over the landscape.
The hussar felt uneasy, he hardly knew why, but the defiant manner of his prisoner had roused strange misgivings in his breast. Still, nothing occurred to disturb him on his passage through the valley, and as he crossed the ridge on the other side, he came in sight of the village of Derryfield, nestling in the wide valley, through which ran a large tributary of the Connecticut, while the glimmer of lights stole through the gathering darkness.
“Thank Heaven, in sight at last!” ejaculated the officer, as he involuntarily pulled up to gaze at the scene. The outlines of houses could be distinguished in the twilight, but as some three miles still intervened, every thing was misty and uncertain. The hussar chirruped to his horse, and was about to ride on, when the hitherto silent prisoner suddenly woke into terrible life and activity.
Seizing the soldier by the belt with his manacled hands with the strength of a giant, he endeavored to drag him down from the saddle, uttering a shout as he did so.
The hussar, though slight of frame, seemed to possess considerable nerve and activity, for he resisted the effort with great adroitness, by throwing himself to the further side of the saddle, while he instinctively leveled his pistol and fired.