Harry ran up and snatched the bridle. "How is it with you, my lord?"
"I have enough, I believe," my lord gasped. "Damme, sir, don't fumble at me. Mount and after him."
So Harry went bumping in the saddle after the Pretender.
CHAPTER XXIV
QUEEN ANNE IS DEAD
The Pretender looked over his shoulder as Harry came up. "Where is he hit?"
"He has it in the body and he suffers."
The Pretender muttered something. "I bring ill-luck to my friends, you see. Best ride off, Mr. Boyce."
"You can do me no harm, sir. God knows if I can do you any good."
The Pretender looked at him curiously. "I think you are something of my own temper. In effect, there is little to hope with me."