“Ah, if I only had half a dozen of our lads here,” he panted, “how I would turn upon these cowardly rascals! Twelve against one, and hunting him down. Never mind,” he cried, making a vicious cut with his weapon at a bramble that met him breast high, “I’d rather be the hunted stag than one of a pack of miserable hounds.”
At another time the wild untrodden wood must have filled him with delight, so full was it of beauty. The earth was carpeted with brilliant moss, which ran over the old stumps and climbed the boles of the great forest-trees; woodland flowers were crushed beneath his feet, and the sunlight danced amongst the leaves. Every here and there a frightened rabbit rushed away, while the long forest arcades echoed with the cries of the startled birds.
But Hilary was too hot and excited to notice any of the beauties around. His drenching was forgotten, and he was beginning to pant with heat, while the shouts of his pursuers made his eyes flash with rage.
He was gaining somewhat, and increasing the distance between them, but not greatly; for so far the men, part of whom were those returning from the cliffs, were still pretty close, and he could hear the crashing of the boughs and twigs as they came on; but he had managed to get out of their sight, and coming now upon a more open part where the trees were bigger, he ran with all his might, dashed into another denser patch, and then feeling that to keep on running was only to grow more and more exhausted, and to make his capture a matter of time, he began to think whether he could not make his brains help his legs.
There was no time to lose, for the smugglers had now entered the more open part, and were, as their shouts indicated, coming on fast. What he was to do must be done quickly.
Hilary crept on cautiously, making as little noise as possible, dividing the branches tenderly so as to leave no broken twigs, and finding that the ground which he had now reached rapidly descended into a deep ravine or gully—one of the many that drain that part of the country—in a few minutes he was down between the fern-hung sandstone rocks.
There was a tiny stream at the bottom, now reduced to a mere thread that joined together a few pools, but the well-washed banks high above his head showed that in rainy times it must be a rushing torrent.
Here was his road, then; for he argued that this stream, even if it did not lead right to the sea, would be sure to run into one that did; and besides, as he needed not rapid travelling, but the cautious creeping that should keep him concealed from his enemies, he could not have met with a better way.
Leaping down, then, from stone to stone till he reached the bottom, he dived under a number of overhanging brambles, and went slowly on.
His pursuers’ cries had for the moment ceased, and his spirits rose as he began to feel that they had gone upon the wrong scent; when suddenly, as he was forcing his way cautiously along, he heard a loud halloo just below him, and not fifty yards away.