It fell more heavily; and the lawyer,
having doffed his coat to row, threw it over the woman's shoulders,
while Mr. Terry put that of Sylvanus about the boy. "Lead on, Mr.
Coristine," cried the detective; and the skiff shot through the narrows,
with the punt hard after it. The rain fell in torrents and drenched the
occupants of both vessels; but those whose faces were towards the stern
could see the bush-fire still raging. "The rain'll stop it spreadin',"
Bill called out cheerfully, and the lawyer rejoiced, because the fire
was on Miss Du Plessis' land. Long was the journey, tired were the
rowers and paddlers, and draggled was the crew, or rather draggled were
the crews, that reached the Richards' homestead. The prisoner was awake
by this time, had been so all along since he was deposited in the punt,
and a paddle had splashed his face. When walked ashore, he had made a
dash for liberty, but Mr. Bangs had brought him up short. "Yore in too
great a herry, Merk Devis," he had said; "we went you, my men, and we'll
hev you, dead or alive." So Mark Davis, since that was the name of
Wilkinson's dissipated farmer, had to fall into line and march to the
Richards' place.
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