If Ellis had but known it, flight was far from Kingdom’s thoughts. He was steadfast in his every purpose, to a fault, and having set out to capture Big Pete, the idea of running away just as he was face to face with the giant fellow, did not so much as occur to him, though he well knew his peril.
“Scoot!” With sudden fury Ellis dragged Ree to his feet and violently pushed him as he spoke, expecting to see the boy dash away.
Ree could not prevent a grim smile from crossing his lips as he turned quickly toward the giant again, realizing that the fellow had intended to frighten him. Each moment, however, he looked for a deadly conflict to begin, and as he stood in quiet defiance, trying to determine what the fugitive’s next move would be, and momentarily expecting a struggle, there was in the background of his thoughts a vision of an unmarked, flower-strewn grave in a quiet church-yard. Strongly intertwined with it was memory of his past life. But hark!
“Clockety-clack-clockety-clack!” It was the sound of horses’ hoofs close by. The constable had discovered them at last. Big Pete heard the hoof-beats and knew he had paused too long.
“Death to ye!” he cried with an oath, and lodged a hammer-like blow on Kingdom’s head, sending the lad staggering, while he swiftly took to his heels.
Dazed, but still conscious, Ree sprang after him, shouting “Come on!” to the party of horsemen now but a few rods distant, “Ellis has just this minute run into the woods!”
For an hour the men searched for the fugitive, but in vain. He had disappeared completely and in the deep darkness pervading the thickly-grown brush and trees of the forest he eluded his pursuers with ease.
In disappointment the chase was abandoned and attention given to capturing the escaped horses. This was at last accomplished, and as the early moon was waning, the constable and his volunteers turned homeward. One source of satisfaction was theirs—they had, at least, recovered the stolen team and wagon, though the latter would need many repairs before again being fit for service.
Ree briefly told of his adventure as the party rode along. John Jerome could not withhold his words of regret that his horse had been too slow for the race, nor could he quite understand how the stolen team had been able to outstrip the others.
“I’ll tell you how that was,” said the constable’s brother. “The nags Big Pete had was really runnin’ away. I guess you know how much faster a dog will run when he has a rattle tied to his tail, than when he’s jest runnin’ for the fun on it! Wall, this here’s a parallel case.”