In
an hour from the beginning of the pursuit, the hunted Rawdonites were at
the wild lands on the lakes, and prepared to enter the forest and make a
stand or hide; when Carruthers cried: "Down flat on your faces every
man," and five reports from in front rang through the air. The Richards
were on guard, but either Perrowne had forgotten to tell them about
blank cartridge, or they did not think proper to obey the order. "Come
on a bit farther, lads, till we find where these villains turn in,"
cried the Squire. In another minute the victors combined with the
Richards' party, and chased the thoroughly demoralized Rawdonites, whose
guns and pouches strewed the ground, to a desolate rocky spot beside a
swamp, where felled trees lay in indescribable confusion, over which the
fugitives scrambled in desperate haste for home. The lawyer caught sight
of a figure that he knew, far up the rocky slope, preparing to leap down
from a prostrate trunk resting on three or four others, and aimed his
rifle at it. The Squire threw up the weapon just in the nick of time.
"It's ower gude a death for the likes o' him, Coristine.
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