Chetwynd Calverley. Ainsworth William Harrison

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СКАЧАТЬ river Weever described a wide half-circle round the east side of the wood, the spot referred to by Marple being about half a mile off.

      As they rode at a rattling pace, they were there in a few minutes; but when they approached the river, they proceeded cautiously.

      If the gipsies had not decamped, they felt sure of catching them, the Weever being here very deep, while there was no bridge within a mile.

      But, cautiously as they came on, they had been descried, and perfectly understanding their design, the gipsies were endeavouring to escape by creeping along the bank of the river, which was here bordered by willows.

      Having got nearly to the end of this screen, the fugitives stopped, determined, if hard pressed, to make for the adjoining wood, and being both extremely fleet, they had no doubt of accomplishing their purpose.

      XIV. THE BLOODHOUND

      It soon became manifest to the gipsies that their pursuers were following them, and searching carefully about among the willows; and they were still more alarmed by the report of a pistol, discharged by Sir Leycester, with the view of rousing them from the covert.

      Accordingly, they dashed off; and so busily were their pursuers occupied, that a minute or two elapsed before their flight was discovered.

      A piece of ground, level as a village green, and a couple of meadows, lay between them and the desired place of shelter, and they had gained the first hedge, and were scrambling through it, when they were perceived by Sir Leycester, who instantly shouted a view-halloo, and the whole party started in pursuit.

      But not without reason had the gipsies reckoned upon their own speed.

      Before Sir Leycester and his attendants cleared the first obstacle, they had leaped a five-barred gate, and were flying across the second field.

      In half a minute more they had plunged into the thicket, and fancied themselves secure.

      Sir Leycester, on the other hand, who was close at their heels, knew very well they had run into the trap and chuckled at the thought of their speedy capture.

      Causing his companions to disperse, he went towards the centre of the wood, expecting to find Booth with the keeper and the hounds.

      Meanwhile, the gipsies, being well acquainted with the thicket, made their way to its inmost recesses, where the brambles and underwood would render it difficult, if not impossible, for the horsemen to follow them.

      They heard Marple and the others on their left and right, pushing their way through the trees, and vainly endeavouring to get near them. They, therefore, felt quite safe; the only unpleasantness being that they might be detained there till night.

      But this feeling of security was quickly dispelled by some sounds they did not at all like. They first heard voices at a distance, accompanied by the crackling of small branches, announcing that some persons on foot were searching for them, and Ekiel remarked, in a low tone, to his comrade:

      “Why, that’s Ned Rushton, the keeper’s voice. We’re not safe here, if he’s after us.”

      “Keep quiet,” muttered Clynch. “He mayn’t come this way.”

      Shortly afterwards, a low, ominous growl, not to be mistaken by the experienced, reached their ears, and filled them with alarm.

      “Ned has got a bloodhound with him, Ekiel,” said Clynch. “We must kill the brute! Have you got your Spanish knife with you?”

      “Ay! but I daren’t attack that hound.”

      “Give me the knife, then! I’ll do it!” cried Clynch. “We must get out of this place as quickly as we can, and run for life.”

      “Run where?” demanded Ekiel.

      “To the marsh,” replied Clynch. “That’s our only chance.”

      “That devil of a dog has taken all my strength out of me.”

      “Don’t be afeared of him!” cried Clynch, unclasping the cuchillo, the point of which was as sharp as a needle.

      Just then, a long bay proclaimed that the hound had got the scent, while the voice, stated by Ekiel to be that of Ned Rushton, was heard encouraging him.

      The gipsies set off; but had not gone far when the formidable hound burst upon them through the underwood.

      Quick as lightening, Clynch turned, and dropping on one knee, faced the enemy with the cuchillo in his hand.

      For a moment, the hound fixed upon him a red, deep-seated eye, and then sprang at his throat.

      But Clynch, whose gaze had never quitted the terrible animal, received him on the point of the knife, and drove the deadly weapon to his heart. With a fierce yell, the hound fell back.

      Having thus liberated himself from his formidable foe, Clynch was making off, when Ned Rushton appeared.

      Exasperated by the slaughter of his favourite, he discharged both barrels of his gun at the flying gipsy, but without effect. The shot rattled over the head of the fugitive, but did him no harm. Clynch quickly overtook his comrade; and, as soon as the ground became clear of underwood, they speeded off towards the morass.

      XV. THE DEERHOUNDS

|Meanwhile, Sir Leycester had not been idle

      He had sent off Ned Rushton with the bloodhound to unkennel the gipsies; but would not allow the other hounds to be unleashed.

      However, when he heard the shouts, and caught sight of the fugitives, one of them with a bloodstained knife in his hand, running towards the morass, he shouted to Booth to loose the dogs, and, cheering them on, started in pursuit.

      The deerhounds quite understood their business, and rushed after the gipsies at a tremendous pace, followed by Sir Leycester, who vainly endeavoured to keep up with them.

      Marple, Booth, and the two grooms likewise joined in the exciting chase.

      After a good run, Ekiel dropped; and as the hounds had to be pulled away from him, the incident caused a short delay, that enabled Clynch to reach the morass.

      There was for no time hesitation, so he took the first path that offered – a narrow footway that seemed to lead towards the middle of the bog.

      He soon found he had made a bad choice, for the path grew narrower, and the ground became soft.

      But the deerhounds were after him, and behind them came Sir Leycester, who had ventured to ride along the pathway, in spite of the warning shouts of Marple and the others.

      Clynch ran on a little further, and then stood at bay, preparing to defend himself against the deerhounds with the cuchillo, which he had never relinquished.

      At this juncture, Sir Leycester’s horse missed his footing, and slipped into the bog, and in the effort to recover himself, threw his rider over his head, completely engulfing him.

      Cries of consternation arose from all who witnessed the accident; but they could render no assistance.

      Marple, who had all along been apprehensive of disaster, flung himself from his horse, and hurried to the spot; but only to find that the unfortunate baronet had disappeared.

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