Gedge saw that the enemy was still far below the track; and as he checked the way on the stone by gradually driving in his well-nailed boot heels, he looked to right or left for a spot where there would be a clear crossing of the track, free from projecting rocks, so that a stoppage would not be necessary. There it was, lying well to the right, narrow but perfectly practicable. For, plainly enough, he could see that there had been a snow-slide burying a portion of the track, and if he could steer between a couple of rocks, not ten yards apart, the glide down could be continued without a pause.
“It’s all right, sir,” he cried. “Signals is clear, and we don’t stop at that station. Hoorray! Her Majesty’s mails. Fast express.”
It was on Bracy’s lips to cry, “Take care,” but he nipped them together and sat fast, feeling their pace slacken as if, to carry out Gedge’s simile, they were easing down to run through a station.
Nearer, nearer, with rough crags half-buried in the snow on both sides and seeming to close in upon them as they glided down, with the narrow pass between the two rocks unaccountably growing for the moment closer together. But directly after, by clever steering, Gedge made a curve in their descent, brought the stone opposite the opening, and then let it go.
Their way rose a little as they approached the track where it was buried in the snow, but directly after the descent was steeper; and as soon as Gedge felt sure of his course they dashed through the opening at a greatly increased speed. Then he shouted in his wild excitement as they tore down towards the enemy, who were toiling upward, slipping, and even crawling on all-fours in places, while their active little pursuers were striving their best to overtake them, but pausing at times to fire.
Pursued and pursuers were still far below, but Bracy saw that it was only a matter of a short time before they would be amongst them; and now, for the first time, it was evident that their descent had caught the attention of the hill-men striving to reach the track, some of whom stopped short to stare, while a party of about twenty immediately bore off to their left as if meaning to intercept them.
“What’s it to be, sir!” panted Gedge. “Charge through ’em, or stop and let ’em have it? They’ll be ‘twix’ two fives.”
“Stop!” shouted Bracy. “They’ll try to check us, and slash as we come; and if we strike against even one we shall be upset.”
“That’s right, sir. Be ready with the rifles. Mine’s charged, I think. ’Nother five hundred yards right for that lot o’ twenty, and then slide off and open fire—eh?”
“You don’t want your orders, Gedge,” said Bracy dryly. “Quite right.”