Suddenly the white bunch was seen to dart forward. Jack, who now considered the enemy almost beyond the chance of being overtaken, gave the word, “Forward!” in the voice of a Stentor, following it up with “Hip, hip, hurrah!” and the whole host, musketeers and spearmen in a mingled mass, rushed yelling out upon the plain, and gave chase to the foe.
“Not so badly done,” said Jack, with a quiet laugh, as he laid his hand on Peterkin’s shoulder.
“Why, Jack, how did you find me out?”
“Easily enough, when it is considered that I saw you go in. The flame of your wild-fire indicated your movements pretty plainly to me, although terror and amazement no doubt blinded the eyes of every one else. Even Mak’s teeth began to chatter when he saw you perform that singular descent of the hill, and no wonder. I hope no bones have been broken?”
“No; all right as far as that goes,” replied Peterkin within a laugh; “but I’ve lost a good deal of skin. However, it’ll grow again. I’m glad it’s no worse. But I say, Jack, do you think our fellows won’t overtake these rascals?”
“No fear of that. I took care to give them a good start, and if there be any truth in the generally received idea that terror lends wings, I’m pretty sure that each man in the enemy’s ranks must have obtained the loan of several pairs to-night. But have you heard the sound of Ralph’s guns?”
“No; the din here was enough to drown anything so distant.”
“Well, we must away to him as fast as we can. I expect that poor Mak is off before us.”
“But you’ll wait until I put on my clothes?” said Peterkin, hasting back towards the place where he had undressed.
“Certainly, lad; only look alive.”