“On! on!” shouted Tom. “I will bring up the rear,” and, giving a whack to Billy’s pony, he drew up for an instant to let the others pass him. They then altogether galloped on as fast as their steeds could move their nimble legs. Half-starved as the animals looked, they went at a good pace. Should their pursuers be on foot, they would very soon be beyond all danger of being shot. Tom occasionally turned to glance over his shoulder. Still the people behind, whoever they were, came rushing on, though as they were distanced they seemed to be more and more confused, until only a dark-coloured mass could be distinguished.
“We shall soon be beyond their reach,” shouted Tom; “it won’t do to pull up until we have distanced them thoroughly.” Soon afterwards, as he looked again, he saw the dark mass divided, when he could distinguish sword blades flashing in the sun as they waved here and there.
“There are cavalry of some sort after us,” he cried out. As far as he could judge at that distance, the horsemen were engaged in cutting down the native peasantry, whom they had overtaken unprepared for resistance.
“If we can make our horses go faster, we must do so,” cried Tom. “Those fellows astern mean mischief, and we must keep well ahead, or they will be trying the sharpness of the sabres on our necks.”
The party did not require this exhortation to do their best to make their steeds move forward faster, urging them on with rein and reiterated whacks on the back with their sticks. The hoofs of the animals clattered over the hard ground, sending up clouds of dust. The day was further advanced than they had supposed, but darkness would favour them should they find a road by which they might turn off and gain the city by another entrance.
“How far have we got to go?” inquired Desmond, shouting to Tom.
“That is more than I can tell; I know we came a good long way,” answered Tom; “but our horses will carry us if we stick on their backs. Keep a good hand on your reins. Whatever you do, don’t let them tumble down.”
Though Tom encouraged his companions, he did not feel very sure that they would escape. He could distinguish flags and spears, as well as the sword blades. The horsemen behind them were becoming every instant more distinct. Much depended on the strength of their pursuers’ horses. If these had already come a good way that morning they might be tired and soon knock up, but if they were fresh they might ere long overtake the midshipmen.
“If they overtake us, we must stand and make a fight for it,” cried Tom.
“No doubt about that,” answered Desmond. “It will never do to be cut down like sheep, running away.”