Roger sprang on to the Colonel's horse, a powerful roan, and Sampson mounted the limping grey.
'Now no one is any the wiser,' said Sampson. 'And we have not even seen you, have we, my lad?'
The farm boy grinned. It was an encounter after his own green heart. 'A bean't be seeing nought, sir,' he said.
'And this wretched waggon is in a devil of a mess,' pursued Sampson, stroking his moustache. 'Yonder kind-hearted soldiers will surely help straighten it. Good luck, sir. Good-bye, Marion, my dear. I will follow you to Garth.'
Roger rode on and Marion held a trembling hand to Sampson, her eyes shining through tears. As she trotted away Sampson called: 'Where is Simone?'
Marion stayed a second to answer. 'With my Aunt Keziah in Exeter.' There was a reply from Sampson she failed to understand. She broke into a canter and the roan and the grey were lost to sight. The lane ended abruptly in open land, and the track curved down along the flank of the hill. Just as they bore round, the fugitives turned once more and caught the gleam of the uniforms half way down the lane.
'Just in time!' said Roger. 'We can see them because of their colour, but 'tis unlikely they can have seen us since we left the open land.'
Side by side the two tore along the track, Marion bringing to bear on her horse the extreme pressure which so far had been unnecessary. Except when the nature of the track compelled, the two did not relax their speed until Liskeard was reached. Midday struck from the steeple as they rode through the town.
They broke into a gallop again, keeping a ceaseless watch for their pursuers. It was touch and go now. The land was so uneven that they could not see the track for more than half a mile at a time. At any moment the soldiers might gallop round the last hummock.
No words passed between the two, until, half an hour later, Marion suddenly pulled up, her eyes dim. She looked about.