He heard a clock strike eleven. It was not the Redfield clock, and it was evident that he was approaching Rockville, a factory village eight miles from his native place. But his legs were failing him. He was exhausted by the labors and the excitement of the day and night, and his strength would hardly hold out till he should get beyond the village.
Seating himself on a rock by the side of the road, he decided to hold a council of war, to determine what should be done. If he went forward, his strength might fail him at the time when a vigorous effort should be required of him. Somebody's dog might bark, and bring the "Philistines upon him." He might meet some late walker, who would detain him. It was hardly safe for him to go through the village by night or day, after the search which had been made for Ben Smart. People would be on the lookout, and it would be no hard matter to mistake him for the other fugitive.
On the other hand, he did not like to pause so near Redfield. He had scarcely entered upon the consideration of this side of the question before his quick ear detected the sound of rattling wheels in the direction from which he had come. His heart beat violently. It was Squire Walker and Jacob Wire, he was sure, in pursuit of him; but his courage did not fail him.
Leaping over the stone wall by the side of the road, he secured the only retreat which the vicinity afforded, and waited, with his heart in his throat, for the coming of his pursuers, as he had assured himself they were. The present seemed to be his only chance of escape, and if he failed now, he might not soon have another opportunity to "try again."
The vehicle was approaching at a furious pace, and as the noise grew more distinct, his heart leaped the more violently. He thought he recognized the sound of Squire Walker's wagon. There was not much time for his fancy to conjure up strange things, for the carriage soon reached the place where he was concealed.
"Ur-r—woo!" said a big bull-dog, placing his ugly nose against the wall, behind which Harry was lying.
"Whoa!" added a voice, which the trembling fugitive recognized as that of George Leman.
"The dog has scented him," said another—that of Jacob Wire.
Harry's heart sank within him, and he felt as faint as though every drop of blood had been drawn from his veins.
"I knew the dog would fetch him," said George Leman, as he leaped from the wagon, followed by Jacob Wire. "At him, Tiger!"