“Gentlemen, I never saw or heard of such a man,” he replied gravely, laying switch to his horse and riding on.
We resumed our journey, vexation keeping us silent for some time.
“Our second mistake,” said Whitestone at length.
As I did not answer, he added:
“But the third time means luck.”
“I doubt it,” I replied. My disbelief in signs and omens was confirmed by the failure of my intuition.
CHAPTER XV. THE TAKING OF CHUDLEIGH.
We were forced to ride with some slowness owing to the blown condition of our horses, and anxiety began to gnaw me to the marrow. We had come so fast that the time to overtake Chudleigh, if in truth we had not passed him already, had arrived. In such calculations I was interrupted by the sight of a loose horse in the road, saddled and bridled, but riderless. He was in a lather, like ours, and I guessed at once that this was the horse Chudleigh had taken. In some manner—perhaps he had seen us, though unseen himself—he had learned that he was pursued hotly, and, fearing to be overtaken, had abandoned his horse and taken to the woods and fields. Such at least was my guess.