After
all, he loved this man in spite of all his faults and follies, and
the strange reputation which clave to him. He might be false, but
Tom had trusted him, and he desired to trust him to the end.
Then he rode forth in the soft summer darkness, turning the mare's
head westward at first, to get clear of the streets and houses, and
only heading her north and then east as he made a wide circuit of
the city.
To ride through it would have been to court capture; and even as it
was, as he sprang forward upon the better road which lay straight
for the forest to the northeast, he had a suspicion of being
followed, although he could see nothing as he looked back.
The mare bounded beneath him with great, elastic strides. He could
afford to laugh pursuit to scorn. Perhaps this confidence made him
careless, for he noted not two motionless figures, lying as it were
in ambush, one on either side of the road in front, just where a
clump of great trees threw a deep shadow across the road. He had
thought of foes following behind; but he had not thought of their
forestalling his movements and waiting for him in advance.
The mare saw them first, and swerved violently. That swerve most
likely saved her life, if not Tom's, for at that identical moment
two shots rang out, and Bully Bullen with a shout of triumph sprang
forward, certain that his bullet had found its billet, and that Tom
was in his power at last.
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