"I am better now," exclaimed Julia—"Oh ye Gods! and safe too! I can help myself now! and in an instant[pg 197] she was seated behind the stout man-at-arms, and clinging with both hands to his sword belt.
"If you see me no more, as I think you will not, Julia, tell Paullus, Lucia saved you, and—died, for love of him! Now—ride! ride! ride! for your life ride!"
And giving their good horses head they sprang forth, plying the rein and scourge, at headlong speed.
As they ascended the first little hillock, they saw the troopers of Catiline pouring out of the watch-tower gate, and thundering down the slope toward the bridge, with furious shouts, at a rate scarcely inferior to their own.
They had but one hope of safety. To reach the little bridge and pass it before their pursuers should gain it, and cut off their retreat toward their friends, whom they knew to be nigh at hand; but to do so appeared well nigh impossible.
It was a little in their favor that the steeds of Catiline's troopers had been harassed by a long and unusually rapid night march, while their own were fresh and full of spirit; but this advantage was neutralized at least by the double weight which impeded the progress and bore down the energies of the noble Thracian courser, bearing Julia and the soldier.
Again it was in their favor that the road on their side the chasm was somewhat shorter and much more level than that by which Catiline and his riders were straining every nerve, gallopping on a parallel line with the tremulous and excited fugitives; but this advantage also was diminished by the fact that they must turn twice at right angles—once to gain the bridge, and once more into the high road beyond it—while the rebels had a straight course, though down a hill side so steep that it might well be called precipitous.
The day had by this time broken, and either party could see the other clearly, even to the dresses of the men and the colors of the horses, not above the sixth part of a mile being occupied by the valley of the stream dividing the two roads.
For life! fire flashed from the flinty road at every bound of the brave coursers, and blood flew from every whirl of the knotted thong; but gallantly the high-blooded beasts answered it. At every bound they gained a little on their[pg 198] pursuers, whose horses foamed and labored down the abrupt descent, one or two of them falling and rolling over their riders, so steep was the declivity.
For life! Catiline had gained the head of his party, and his black horse had outstripped them by several lengths.