next the
meadows. At the lych-gate, near a score of men were gathered, some in
the saddle, some standing by their horses' heads. They were variously
armed and mounted; some with spears, some with bills, some with bows, and
some bestriding plough-horses, still splashed with the mire of the
furrow; for these were the very dregs of the country, and all the better
men and the fair equipments were already with Sir Daniel in the field.

"We have not done amiss, praised be the cross of Holywood! Sir Daniel
will be right well content," observed the priest, inwardly numbering the
troop.

"Who goes? Stand! if ye be true!" shouted Bennet. A man was seen
slipping through the churchyard among the yews; and at the sound of this
summons he discarded all concealment, and fairly took to his heels for
the forest. The men at the gate, who had been hitherto unaware of the
stranger's presence, woke and scattered. Those who had dismounted began
scrambling into the saddle; the rest rode in pursuit; but they had to
make the circuit of the consecrated ground, and it was plain their quarry
would escape them. Hatch, roaring an oath, put his horse at the hedge,
to head him off; but the beast refused, and sent his rider sprawling in
the dust. And though he was up again in a moment, and had caught the
bridle, the time had gone by, and the fugitive had gained too great a
lead for any hope of capture.

The wisest of all had been Dick Shelton. Instead of starting in a vain
pursuit, he had whipped his crossbow from his back, bent it, and set a
quarrel to the string; and now, when the others had desisted, he turned
to Bennet and asked if he should shoot.

"Shoot! shoot!" cried the priest, with sanguinary violence.

"Cover him, Master Dick," said Bennet. "Bring me him down like a ripe
apple."

The fugitive was now within but a few leaps of safety; but this last part
of the meadow ran very steeply uphill; and the man ran slower in
proportion. What with the greyness of the falling night, and the uneven
movements of the runner, it was no easy aim; and as Dick levelled his
bow, he felt a kind of pity, and a half desire that he might miss. The
quarrel sped.

The man stumbled and fell, and a great cheer arose from Hatch and the
pursuers. But they were counting their corn before the harvest. The man
fell lightly; he was lightly afoot again, turned and waved his cap in a
bravado, and was out of sight next moment in the margin of the wood.