"Hola! Hola! gallant greys! The best feed Reading can provide, and no more journeyings to-night if you do it."
Michael's voice, coaxing at first, rose to shrill command, as the long whip cracked, and the great coach swung round a corner at such an angle as nearly sent Tom Blakeley spinning after his horn.
But the men behind quite understood the game now, and were ready enough to play it out. One does not see a rich prize disappearing round the corner without giving chase.
And their horses were fresh.
Yet the coach had a good start.
Craven's Hollow at last!
"Steady there, Michael, steady! Bad going, and a rickety old bridge which wants treating with respect."
But Michael was deaf to caution. To steady down meant capture, and one must risk something for success.
So down the hollow rattled the great, clumsy vehicle, and even the youngsters grouped round the box-seat forgot to sing and shout now, but clung on in silence—wondering——
Over!