At a rapid run we had nearly reached the outlet-pass, distinguishable to those who knew the localities by a dead oak and a clump of hazels, when I caught the gleam of musket-barrels above the bushes. It was as I had dreaded: the outlet was beset.
"I know another way," whispered Herr von Zehren. "Perhaps it will bear us, and if not----"
I did not let him finish--"On! on!" I cried.
We turned sharply to the right and entered the tall rushes that bordered the morass. But they had already caught sight of us; there was a cry of "Halt!" and shots were fired at us; and some came rapidly running towards us.
"It must be here," said Herr von Zehren, parting the high rushes and plunging into them. I followed closely behind him.
Slowly and cautiously, crouching almost to the earth, we crept forward. It was a desperate attempt. More than once I sank to the knees in the black morass. I had made up my mind, in case I stuck fast in it, to blow out my brains.
"We shall do it yet," said Herr von Zehren in a whisper to me over his shoulder. "We have passed the worst now. I know it well. I was here after snipe last spring, and the villain Jock was with me. So: now we are through."
He pushed through the rushes, and at the same moment three men, who had separated from the rest, and must have been lying for some minutes in ambush a few paces from the outlet, sprang upon us. The foremost man was long Jock Swart.
"Dog!" hissed Herr von Zehren through his clenched teeth. He raised his pistol, and long Jock fell to the ground a dead man.
At the same moment, I also fired, and one of the others reeled and fell with a loud cry. The third shot off his piece, and ran at full speed back to the morass. The wounded man then rose to his feet and limped off with considerable celerity, but with loud cries of pain.