ridle,
and the brave beast gathered the roll of his loins, and sprang from his
quagmired haunches. One more spring, and he was on earth again, instead
of being under it; and Jeremy leaped on his back, and stooped, for he
knew that they would fire. Two bullets whistled over him, as the horse,
mad with fright, dashed forward; and in five minutes more he had come to
the Exe, and the pursuers had fallen behind him. The Exe, though a much
smaller stream than the Barle, now ran in a foaming torrent, unbridged,
and too wide for leaping. But Jeremy's horse took the water well; and
both he and his rider were lightened, as well as comforted by it. And as
they passed towards Lucott hill, and struck upon the founts of Lynn,
the horses of the three pursuers began to tire under them. Then Jeremy
Stickles knew that if he could only escape the sloughs, he was safe for
the present; and so he stood up in his stirrups, and gave them a loud
halloo, as if they had been so many foxes.

[Illustration: 419.jpg With a wave of his hat]

Their only answer was to fire the remaining charge at him; but the
distance was too great for any aim from horseback; and the dropping
bullet idly ploughed the sod upon one side of him. He acknowledged it
with a wave of his hat, and laid one thumb to his nose, in the manner
fashionable in London for expression of contempt. However, they followed
him yet farther; hoping to make him pay out dearly, if he should only
miss the track, or fall upon morasses. But the neighbourhood of our Lynn
stream is not so very boggy; and the King's messenger now knew his
way as well as any of his pursuers did; and so he arrived at Plover's
Barrows, thankful, and in rare appetite.

"But was the poor soldier drowned?" asked Annie; "and you never went to
look for him! Oh, how very dreadful!"

"Shot, or drowned; I know not which. Thank God it was only a trooper.
But they shall pay for it, as dearly as if it had been a captain."

"And how was it you were struck by a bullet, and only shaken in your
saddle? Had you a coat of mail on, or of Milanese chain-armour? Now,
Master Stickles, had you?"

"No, Mistress Lizzie; we do not wear things of that kind nowadays. You
are apt, I perceive, at romances. But I happened to have a little flat
bottle of the best stoneware slung beneath my saddle-cloak, and filled
with the very best _eau de vie_, from the George Hotel, at Southmolton.
The brand of it now is upon my back. Oh, the murderous scoun