It was not long in coming. Three men with blackened faces sprang
out from different places, and the crackling of the underwood
showed that more were lurking out of sight.
Tom took steady aim, and brought down the foremost villain at the
first shot; but Robin was not so lucky. He winged his man, but did
not drop him, and the next moment four stalwart figures had sprung
out to the aid of their comrades, and the travellers were
surrounded.
Tom set his teeth hard, a great fury in his heart. He took aim
again, and another of his assailants dropped as he pulled the
trigger; then, setting spurs to Wildfire, who was well-nigh
distracted with terror at the noise and the flash in the darkness,
he rode clean over the man who had sprung at his bridle rein, and
calling to Robin to follow him, he sped away in the darkness at a
pace which was risk to life and limb.
The footpads seemed taken aback by this move, for they had reckoned
that a headlong flight into the recesses of the forest would be too
great a peril to be risked; and indeed it was a headstrong course
to take. But Tom was in a headstrong mood, and his horse was beside
himself with fear. Both man and beast were well used to reckless
riding, and Tom had eyes like a cat, whilst Wildfire had both the
wonderful sight and wonderful instinct of his race.
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