en down the rocks, and across the brook, to the track from
Slocombslade: so as to stop the King's messenger from travelling any
farther, if only I could catch him there.

And this was exactly what I did; and a terrible run I had for it,
fearing at every step to hear the echo of shots in the valley, and
dropping down the scrubby rocks with tearing and violent scratching.
Then I crossed Bagworthy stream, not far below Doone-valley, and
breasted the hill towards Slocombslade, with my heart very heavily
panting. Why Jeremy chose to ride this way, instead of the more direct
one (which would have been over Oare-hill), was more than I could account
for: but I had nothing to do with that; all I wanted was to save his
life.

And this I did by about a minute; and (which was the hardest thing of
all) with a great horse-pistol at my head as I seized upon his bridle.

"Jeremy, Jerry," was all I could say, being so fearfully short of
breath; for I had crossed the ground quicker than any horse could.

"Spoken just in time, John Ridd!" cried Master Stickles, still however
pointing the pistol at me: "I might have known thee by thy size, John.
What art doing here?"

"Come to save your life. For God's sake, go no farther. Three men in the
covert there, with long guns, waiting for thee."

"Ha! I have been watched of late. That is why I pointed at thee, John.
Back round this corner, and get thy breath, and tell me all about it. I
never saw a man so hurried. I could beat thee now, John."

Jeremy Stickles was a man of courage, and presence of mind, and much
resource: otherwise he would not have been appointed for this business;
nevertheless he trembled greatly when he heard what I had to tell
him. But I took good care to keep back the name of young Marwood de
Whichehalse; neither did I show my knowledge of the other men; for
reasons of my own not very hard to conjecture.

"We will let them cool their heels, John Ridd," said Jeremy, after
thinking a little. "I cannot fetch my musketeers either from Glenthorne
or Lynmouth, in time to seize the fellows. And three desperate Doones,
well-armed, are too many for you and me. One result this attempt will
have, it will make us attack them sooner than we had intended. And one
more it will have, good John, it will make me thy friend for ever. Shake
hands my lad, and forgive me freely for having been so cold to thee.
Mayhap, in the troubles coming, it will help thee not a little to have
done me