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 bridle,
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.

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 p