half-way down the hill he saw the
three Doones mounting hastily. And then he knew that his only chance lay
in the stoutness of his steed.

The horse was in pretty good condition; and the rider knew him
thoroughly, and how to make the most of him; and though they had
travelled some miles that day through very heavy ground, the bath in
the river had washed the mud off, and been some refreshment. Therefore
Stickles encouraged his nag, and put him into a good hard gallop,
heading away towards Withycombe. At first he had thought of turning to
the right, and making off for Withypool, a mile or so down the valley;
but his good sense told him that no one there would dare to protect him
against the Doones, so he resolved to go on his way; yet faster than he
had intended.

The three villains came after him, with all the speed they could muster,
making sure from the badness of the road that he must stick fast ere
long, and so be at their mercy. And this was Jeremy's chiefest fear,
for the ground being soft and thoroughly rotten, after so much frost and
snow, the poor horse had terrible work of it, with no time to pick the
way; and even more good luck than skill was needed to keep him from
foundering. How Jeremy prayed for an Exmoor fog (such as he had often
sworn at), that he might turn aside and lurk, while his pursuers went
past him! But no fog came, nor even a storm to damp the priming of their
guns; neither was wood or coppice nigh, nor any place to hide in; only
hills, and moor, and valleys; with flying shadows over them, and great
banks of snow in the corners. At one time poor Stickles was quite in
despair; for after leaping a little brook which crosses the track at
Newland, be stuck fast in a "dancing bog," as we call them upon Exmoor.
The horse had broken through the crust of moss and sedge and marishweed,
and could do nothing but wallow and sink, with the black water spirting
over him. And Jeremy, struggling with all his might, saw the three
villains now topping the crest, less than a furlong behind him; and
heard them shout in their savage delight. With the calmness of despair,
he yet resolved to have one more try for it; and scrambling over the
horse's head, gained firm land, and tugged at the bridle. The poor nag
replied with all his power to the call upon his courage, and reared his
forefeet out of the slough, and with straining eyeballs gazed at him.
"Now," said Jeremy, "now, my fine fellow!" lifting him with the b