“But as long as we can run we will,” cried Tom. “If they do come up with us, my idea is that we should leap our horses over the ditch or fence, as may be most suitable, on our left, then wheel round and charge them if they attempt to follow us.”
Roy and the rest agreed to Tom’s proposal. “I don’t think the cavalry have carbines, so that they cannot shoot us down at a distance, and our pistol bullets will reach farther than their lance points.”
Tom had taken command of the party by tacit consent, and no one was disposed to dispute his authority. There was no time, however, for saying much. As they went along Tom had the satisfaction of observing that the enemy did not appear to be much, if at all, gaining upon them. This raised his hopes. They had already made good several miles, when Charley Roy proposed a halt, to breathe their horses and ascertain whether they were still pursued. Scarcely, however, had they stopped, than the clattering of their pursuers’ horses’ hoofs sounded in their ears, mingled with the shouts of the riders.
“We must push on, whether our nags like it or not,” cried Tom; “if we can once distance them, the enemy are very likely to give up the chase, as they know they will run a risk of being cut off should they get too near the town.”
Again the party galloped forward. Even their short halt enabled the Tae-pings to gain on them, and the rebels’ voices sounded considerably louder.
“All right! they have no bow chasers, or we should have had them firing after us,” cried Tom, laughing; “they will have had their ride for nothing, I hope, after all.”
Two or three miles more were got over. The midshipmen began to look out for the lanterns on the city walls, which, by this time, they expected to see. Near, however, as they might be to a place of refuge, as their foes still continued the pursuit, they were not out of danger. Their steeds, too, were giving evident signs of being knocked up, and they had to keep their sticks going to make the poor animals move forward. Presently, down came Billy’s horse, sending its rider clear over its head, Billy narrowly escaping a kick from the heels of the animal directly before him. Tom, without stopping to see what had become of Billy, pulled up, and fortunately succeeded in catching the animal’s reins.
“Where are you, Billy?” he shouted out; “not hurt, I hope?”
“Not much, only on my knee,” answered Billy, as he hobbled up and climbed again into his saddle.
The rest of the party, not seeing what had occurred, galloped on. Billy’s horse, like his rider, had cut both its knees, and seemed very unwilling to continue the headlong race they had been so long running.