I had but a vague idea of the right direction, for the trees were dark and high, and I was not much acquainted with this part of the country. Nevertheless, being country-bred, and having often to travel by night, I did not fear going far wrong. In half an hour I reached a lane, and then I took my bearings.
Listening, I heard the splash of the waves on the sea-coast near. This I knew lay southwest, so I was able to choose my direction without difficulty. Tregothnan lay a good many miles southward; I heeded not the distances, however, my one purpose was to reach Hugh Boscawen's house without mishap. Once out in the open country the night was not dark, and I felt no weariness. My fear was that Otho Killigrew should overtake me. I was sure that the man I had struck down would relate his adventure, and that Otho Killigrew, in spite of what Uncle Anthony had said, was as clever as the devil himself. Moreover, as I rushed on, I could not help believing that the man had recognized me. Possibly he had come from Endellion, and had seen me there. This lent wings to my feet, for should Otho and his satellites follow me on horseback, I should be in a sore predicament. Presently my fear became a terror. If the man had recognized me, and had revealed the fact to the Killigrews and Uncle Anthony, would they not connect my presence with Mistress Nancy? For a moment my heart ceased to beat, but presently comfort came. My love, in spite of her youth, was no simpering, helpless chit of a maid. She would know how to hold her own; with old Adam as her friend she could outwit all the Killigrews. Then another thought came to me which assured me much. I was confident that Uncle Anthony was the maid's friend. I called to mind a dozen things which had happened during the time I was with him on Roche Rock. I remembered the way he spoke when he was left wounded and helpless in the old chapel in the parish of St. Mawgan. Their purposes might be one with regard to the Catholic faith and the coming of Charles Stuart, but I felt sure that the mysterious old man loved Mistress Nancy, and that he loved not Otho Killigrew.
This made me feel kindly towards him, and although I had it from his own lips that he had been spending his life in preparation for the coming of the Pretender, I thought of many plans whereby I might be able to help him, if I reached Hugh Boscawen.
While these thoughts passed through my mind, I rushed on with unabated speed. The morning had only just begun to dawn, and no one had molested me. I therefore began to have hopes that I should fulfil my mission without mishap. Just as I caught the first glimpse of the rising sun, however, they were rudely dispelled.
I had at this moment just reached the brow of a hill, and saw the entrance gates to one of the roads which led to Hugh Boscawen's house. They were not much more than a mile distant, and I fancied that, once inside them, my dangers would be over. By this time, as may be imagined, I was sore spent, for I had run a great part of the way. I therefore contented myself with walking down the hill towards the gates, but had not gone far when I heard the sound of galloping horses. Turning, I saw two men riding towards me. They were Otho Killigrew and another man.
I started to run, holding my sheathed sword in my left hand, but I saw that such a course would be useless. They were evidently well mounted, and I was spent and weary. Each side of me great hedges towered up, covered with hazel bushes. If I tried to escape into the fields by climbing over one of them, they would shoot me like a dog.
"Stop!" cried Otho.
For answer I cocked one of the pistols Mistress Nancy had given me. At least I would fight to the very last. Otho saw my action, and a second later two pistol-bullets whizzed by me, one tearing the sleeve of my coat. Evidently both of them had fired. Perhaps the movements of the horses had caused them to miss their aim. My hands trembled because of my long journey, otherwise I was fairly calm. I fired at Otho. Seeing my action, he spurred his horse furiously, and my bullet just escaped him—instead it struck the horse of the man who accompanied him. This made the animal rear and plunge mightily, and a second later the fellow lay sprawling on the ground. The horse, however, after some capering, galloped madly away.
"Come," I thought, "this is good work," and lifting my other pistol I shot at Otho's steed, rather than at its rider. I thought the bullet struck the animal, but Otho was a better horseman than his companion. He kept his seat firmly.
I had now no weapon save my sword, for there was no time to re-load, so I started running again, taking as many turns as a hare in the road, so as to give Otho as little chance as possible to take aim. Another bullet whizzed by, and still I was unharmed. I wondered how much ammunition he had, and in spite of my danger I hoped that I should come well out of the business. For if it became a question of swords, I had no fear. Otho was no swordsman, while his companion, as far as I could judge, was only a common serving-man, who would have but little knowledge of fencing.