he bestrode.

"On, sir--on, Mr. Colleton--this is no moment for graceful attitude.
Bend forward--free rein--rashing spur. We ride for life--for life. They
must not take us alive--remember _that_. Let them shoot--strike, if they
please--but they must put no hands on us as living men. If we must die,
why--any death but a dog's. Are you prepared for such a finish to your
ride?"

"I am--but I trust it has not come to that. How much have we yet to the
river?"

"Two miles at the least, and a tough road. They gain upon us--do you not
hear them--we are slow--very slow. These horses--on, Syphax, dull
devil--on--on!"

And at every incoherent and unconnected syllable, the landlord struck
his spurs into his animal, and incited the youth to do the same.

"There is an old mill upon the branch to our left, where for a few hours
we might lie in secret, but daylight would find us out. Shall we try a
birth there, or push on for the river?" inquired Munro.

"Push on, by all means--let us stop nowhere--we shall be safe if we make
the nation," was the reply.

"Ay, safe enough but that's the rub. If we could stretch a mile or two
between us, so as to cross before they heave in sight, I could take you
to a place where the whole United States would never find us out--but
they gain on us--I hear them every moment more and more near. The sounds
are very clear to-night--a sign of rain, perhaps to-morrow. On, sir!
Push! The pursuers must hear us, as we hear them."

"But I hear them not--I hear no sounds but our own--" replied the youth.

"Ah, that's because you have not the ears of an outlaw. There's a
necessity for using our ears, one of the first that we acquire, and I
can hear sounds farther, I believe, than any man I ever met, unless it
be Guy Rivers. He has the ears of the devil, when his blood's up. Then
he hears further than I can, though I'm not much behind him even then.
Hark! they are now winding the hill not more than half a mile off, and
we hear nothing of them now until they get round--the hill throws the
echo to the rear, as it is more abrupt on that side than on this. At
this time, if they heard us before, they can not hear us. We could now
make the old mill with some hope of their losing our track, as we strike
into a blind path to do so. What say you, Master Colleton--shall we turn
aside or go forward?"

"Forward, I say. If we are to suffer, I would suffer on the high road,
in full motion, and not be caught in a crevi