It was time.
But he had that wallet safe enough.
For a moment the men's energies seemed paralyzed. Speedily they recovered, however, and took up the running, firing after Jack at random.
The country had become more open, and when our hero looked about presently, there was but one man in pursuit. The others had been shaken off.
Luckily for Jack, who, hockey-player though he was, felt almost pumped out, the moon gave a little more light just then. He stopped. On came the man with a hoop of rejoicing; but Jack's revolver rang out twice, sharp and clear on the night air, and the pursuer rejoiced no more. He threw up his arms, and fell fiat on his face.
Jack grasped revolver and wallet still more firmly and ran on.
CHAPTER VI.
THE FIRST GREAT BOMBARDMENT—SHIPS VERSUS
FORTS—POOR BOY HARRIS—"TELL 'EM I DIED LIKE A
THOUSAND O' BRICKS."
The bold young hockey-player ran on and on; first as hard as he could fly, then only in a swinging sort of trot that he felt he could keep up long enough. Once or twice he lost himself, but soon got on the track again. He was guided now as much by a glare in the sky—which he knew must be the French camp—as by the rough tracks through the bush.
And long before he came near the camp he was hailed by the outpost sentry. Jack answered in very questionable French but in a very short time he was telling the story of his adventures to Marshal Canrobert himself.