on his back, he pressed him down with both arms so as to
break from his grasp. No human muscles could resist the force applied.
Slowly but surely the iron sinews of Henry's arms straightened out, and
the two were soon at arms' length.

But even Gascoyne's strength could not unclasp the grip of the youth's
hands, until he placed his knee upon his chest; then, indeed, they were
torn away.

Of course, all this was not done without some violence; but it was still
plain to the widow that Gascoyne was careful not to hurt his antagonist
more than he could help.

"Now, Henry, my lad," said he, holding the youth down by the two arms,
"I have given you a good deal of trouble this morning, and I mean to
give you a little more. It does not just suit me at present to be tried
for a pirate, so I mean to give you a race. You are reputed one of the
best runners in the settlement. Well, I'll give you a chance after me.
If you overtake me, boy, I'll give myself up to you without a struggle.
But I suspect you'll find me rather hard to catch!"

As he uttered the last words he permitted Henry to rise. Ere the youth
had quite gained his footing, he gave him a violent push and sent him
staggering back against the wall. When Henry recovered his balance,
Gascoyne was standing in the open doorway.

"Now, lad, are you ready?" said he, a sort of wild smile lighting up his
face.

Henry was so taken aback by this conduct, as well as by the rough
handling which he had just received, that he could not collect his
thoughts for a few seconds; but, when Gascoyne nodded gravely to his
mother, and walked quietly away, saying, "Good-by, Mary," the
exasperated youth darted through the doorway like an arrow.

If Henry Stuart's rush may be compared to the flight of an arrow from a
bow, not less appropriately may Gascoyne's bound be likened to the leap
of the bolt from a cross-bow: The two men sprang over the low fences
that surrounded the cottage, leaped the rivulet that brawled down its
steep course behind it, and coursed up the hill like mountain hares.

The last that Widow Stuart saw of them, as she gazed eagerly from the
doorway of the hut, was, when Gascoyne's figure was clearly defined
against the sky as he leaped over a great chasm in the lava high up the
mountain-side. Henry followed almost instantly, and then both were
hidden from view in the chaos of rocks and gorges that rose above the
upper line of vegetation.

It was a long and a severe