While I went over the sand-hills like a hare, I looked back once and saw
Amos running, his face all screwed up in fury, and his black eyes as if
they were on fire. At the door of the cabin stood Mr. Forsyth, shaking
his Malacca cane at me, but never troubling himself to move so much as
an inch.
I knew from the first that I had the legs of both of them, that Amos
could never catch me though I carried a pound weight on either foot. And
I believe, like a fool, I laughed, thinking myself secure; and when I
pulled through a hedgerow that cut off the sand-drift from the open
fields, I found myself face to face with Joshua.
For my own excuse, it may be urged that I had had much to think of in
the last few minutes; and if I had remembered my friendship with
Bannister, I had at least forgotten the very existence of Joshua Trust.
But there he was, as plain as a pike-staff, about thirty yards to the
front of me.
I pulled up and stared at him; and to my surprise he made no movement,
until I heard the voice of Amos from behind me.
"Catch the young fiend! Shoot, Joshua, before he gets away!"
And at that I jumped to the right, straight into a rabbit-hole, and
pitched on to my head.
I lay where I was for a few seconds without moving, for I was a trifle
shaken by the fall. I could still hear Amos, cursing and swearing
horribly, and Joshua, beating along the hedge with his stick. For all
that, neither could I see them nor could they see me; for I was flat
upon my face in a bunch of thistles, which was near as great a torment
as a swarm of bees.
I knew from the first that sooner or later I would have to run for it;
and the only thing that held me back from bolting then and there was the
certain knowledge that Joshua Trust would shoot. I write with natural
reluctance whatsoever stands something to the credit of myself; but,
even at the moment, I thought more of the parchment than of my own skin.
For I still held the crumpled fragment of the map in my right hand,
gripping it tightly as if it were a running-cork.
I heard Joshua's voice quite near to me; and knowing that he must find
me if I remained where I was, I resolved to take my chance. But first,
in case of possible misfortune, I stuffed my portion of the parchment
map to the full length of an arm down the very rabbit-hole that had
tripped me up. And as I did so, a thought flashed through my mind: that
it was, indeed, a strange circumstance that half the secret of the
Greater Treasure of the Incas of old Peru, who four hundred years ago
had foiled the greedy Spaniards, should lie hidden in a rabbit-scrape in
Sussex.
And then I sprang to my feet and trusted to Providence to help me.
Joshua was in front of me and threw out his arms to catch me. But I
dived beneath them, swerved away from him, and ran for my very life.
I heard Amos shouting like a madman. Out of the corner of an eye, I saw
Joshua Trust fumbling in the region of his belt for the pistol I knew he
carried.
It was neck or nothing then. I had the sense not to run straight, but
to dodge here and there like a snipe; and as like as not I owed my life
to that. For I found out afterwards that Trust was a dead shot, who
seldom missed his mark.
As I fled, the sharp crack of his pistol broke upon the silence, scaring
the sea birds from the beach. The bullet sang past my head and clipped
the lobe of an ear, so that the blood ran down my neck. And thus was I,
Dick Treadgold, blooded, in both metaphor and fact, to a life of peril
and adventure.
Whilst Joshua reloaded, I had a chance to double the distance between
us. I headed inland, away from the shore, and made in the direction of
the village which was more than a mile away. Straight in front of me
was a clump of trees, and I hoped to gain this before Trust could fire
again.
Though the country that lies south of the Downs, from the west of
Worthing to the ancient city of Chichester, is, in the main, as flat as
a table, this particular clump of trees was perched upon a rounded
hillock--though you would call it that nowhere but in western Sussex;
and therefore, when I gained the trees, I could survey the land on every
side of me to the extent of a good square mile.
To the south were Joshua and Amos Baverstock, hastening after me, the
latter some way behind his longer-legged companion. To the north, a
little to the east, was the sharp belfry of the church in the village I
would gain: and, to the west, was the lane that leads to Arundel.
I had paused for a moment, not so much for breath as to get my bearings,
to select the shortest route; and in this brief moment, I became aware
of a circumstance that caused my heart to leap for joy. For, coming
toward me, by way of a footpath that led across the fields, carrying
under an arm a brown paper parcel that I knew to contain his weekly
stock of provisions, I recognised the great, tall figure of John
Bannister himself.
All thoughts of my pursuers were instantly banished from my mind. What
cared I now for Amos Baverstock and all his threats and oaths! I was
conscious of nothing else but the bald fact that a friend in need was
close at hand--and one, moreover, who would soon get the best of Master
Baverstock--and so great was my elation that I took no heed of a
dog-cart which, at that moment, came rattling round a bend in the road.
I called loudly upon Bannister by name, though he was then scarcely
within hearing, and dashed down the hill before Joshua could have
reached the trees from the other side.
The road in that place was bounded by a wooden fence, and balancing
myself upon the top of this, I shouted frantically to Bannister.
"Come quick!" I cried. "Amos Baverstock is here!"
I was answered, before the last word had left my lips, by a shot fired
at the back of me. The bullet splintered the woodwork of the very bar
upon which I was standing; and, startled into action, I jumped into the
road.
Immediately I had to turn back again no less quickly, to avoid being run
down by the dog-cart, the driver of which reined up with a jerk.
I looked up at him at once, thinking to recognise some farmer that I
knew; but, instead of that, I set eyes, to my amazement, upon Mr.
Gilbert Forsyth, with his side-whiskers and his greased moustache.
I remembered then--too late as things turned out--that the road curved
seaward near the place where I had first discovered Amos and his
friends. Had I thought of it at all, I must have known that they had
never walked to that lonely spot. They had driven there, to leave the
horse and cart upon the road, whilst they settled themselves at a little
distance to discuss how best they might attack John Bannister, in his
cabin by the sea. Moreover, had I known then as much as I know now of
Mr. Gilbert Forsyth, I should never have supposed for a single instant
that he could be as idle as he seemed, that he would have remained doing
nothing before the opening of the cabin, whilst his friends were
pursuing me.
For Gilbert Forsyth, a fop to all appearances and a lazy dude, was in
reality a man of action. He said not a word to me, but when he had
reined in his horse, he lifted his whip, and cut me down as if I were a
thistle.
It was a long tandem whip--and tandems were much in fashion in the days
when all this happened. The lash wrapped itself about my legs like a
living snake; so that when Forsyth jerked the whip backwards with all
his force, I was thrown violently on my face upon the hard, dusty road.
I tried to get to my feet as quick as I could, but had done no more than
struggle to my knees, when Forsyth struck me upon the crown of my head
with the heavy handle of the whip.
It was a cruel blow and a stout one; and I know that if I did not
actually lose consciousness I, at least, saw the trees swing upward into
the sky, and the white road upon which I lay rush round and round, like
the spokes of a revolving wheel.
And then the next thing I knew was that Forsyth had me by the throat.
Though I was then young, I was not a weakling. I struggled desperately,
and might, perhaps, have freed myself, had not Joshua Trust arrived upon
the scene in time to settle the affair the wrong way for me.
For he gathered me up in his arms, and I was held as if I were encased
in iron. I shouted frantically, but that was of no more help than the
cackling of a hen. I was lifted bodily into the cart.
I heard Joshua shout to Amos: "Run like mad! Here's Bannister himself!"
Forsyth had climbed upon the box. Trust was on the back seat, with me
held like a squalling babe in his arms. The cart tilted forward a bit,
as Amos scrambled up and took his seat beside the driver.
I heard Forsyth crack his whip, and immediately the horse started off at
a canter, the cart rocking like a boat in a heavy sea. I continued to
shout, until Joshua swore at me and clapped one of his great hands
across my mouth. And the last thing I saw, as the cart turned into the
main road to Littlehampton, was John Bannister breaking through the
boundary fence, and then standing quite still and upright in the middle
of the road, staring after us, with his brown paper parcel still under
his arm.