|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.