The pyramidal baggage wagon had gained the road behind them, and lingered uncertainly, with the driver asleep and waiting for orders. The conspirators were about to gallop forward to the head of the moving column, when Collins pointed across the abandoned campground to where a horseman, who had evidently made a wide detour of the advancing column, rode madly toward the baggage wagon.
"The gentleman's trying to kill his horse, I should judge," murmured Ardmore. "By Jove!"
"It's Gillingwater!" chorused the trio.
The rider in his haste had overlooked the men in the road. He dashed through the wide opening in the fence, left by the militiamen, took the ditch by the roadside at a leap, wakened the sleeping driver on the wagon with a roar, and himself leaped upon the box and began turning the horses.
"What do you think he's doing?" asked Cooke.
"He's in a hurry to get back to mother's cooking," replied Ardmore. "He's seen Miss Dangerfield and learned that war is at hand, and he's going to get his clothes out of danger. Lordy! Listen to him slashing the mules!"
"But you don't think—"
The wagon had swung round, and already was in rapid flight. Collins howled in glee.
"Come on! We can't miss a show like this!"