ted not a moment, but snatched his pistol, took aim, and fired
shot after shot. But in his haste and agitation a correct aim was
impossible. He fired wildly. Four bullets, one after the other,
whistled through the air past Obed's head, yet he still came on. The
vision of that awful face rushing down upon him thus through the
smoke-clouds, with vengeance gleaming from the eyes, and the resolute
mouth close shut in implacable sternness, was sufficient to show
Gualtier that his career was nearly run. He had a sudden feeling that
all was lost. With a wild leap he bounded over the ditch by the
roadside, and tore over the fields with the frantic speed of one
flying from death.

But the avenger was at his heels.

To fly from vengeance and from death is a thing that brings a strong
motive to exertion, but there are other things sometimes which may
give an equal impulse. Gualtier was lithe, sinewy, and agile, nimble
of foot too, and inspired by the consciousness of danger; but the man
who pursued him was one whose mighty thews and sinews had been formed
under the shadows of the Alleghanies, and trained by years of early
experience to every exercise of strength. This man also was inspired
by a feeling which could contribute a motive for exertion as powerful
as the fear which filled the heart of Gualtier, and his own pride,
his honor, and his affection for Zillah, all urged him on. He
followed fast, and followed faster. Gualtier had a long start, but
Obed steadily gained, until at last the fugitive could hear the
footsteps of his pursuer.

Between the skirts of the hills and the Arno there was a plain about
two miles in width. On the other side of the river the fields spread
away again for a wider extent, interspersed with groves and
vineyards. The Arno was full, and flowing rapidly. Here, then, seemed
to be to the fugitive the last chance for escape--here, in that
swift-flowing river. Gualtier could swim admirably. Toward this river
he turned his flying steps, thinking that his pursuer might not be
able to follow, and hoping for safety here. Yet all the time he
expected to hear a pistol-shot, for Obed had already told him, in
that memorable meeting in the park, that he earned a revolver. That
he did not use it now seemed to Gualtier to show plainly that he must
have left it behind. As for Obed, he neither fired a pistol-shot nor
threatened to fire one. He did not even draw his revolver from his
pocket. He simply ran as fast a