The fire long smouldering in Tom's breast burst out now into a
fierce flame. His eyes blazed. A smothered imprecation broke from
his lips. He drew the pistol from his belt, and fired full at the
fellow who had sought to seize the mare's rein.
He might almost have spared his fire, for Nell Gwynne would have
dashed out his brains with her forefeet had he not fallen with a
groan, a lifeless corpse. The other man, who had seemed about to
rush forward, too, now started back in terror and dismay.
Sheltering himself behind a tree, he yelled out in a voice of
trembling fury:
"You shall swing for this, Tom Tufton! you shall feel the halter
about your neck right soon! The highway robber who is a murderer to
boot will never escape the arm of the law! I will bring you to the
gallows ere I have done with you!"
Tom knew the voice, and turned the mare's head towards the fellow,
who, however, decamped so quickly amongst the trees that it was
hopeless to try and follow on horseback. Moreover, Tom did not know
that he was not also pursued from behind; and if so, he must gain
the friendly shelter of the forest ere his enemies came up.
True, he had but slain this fellow in self-defence. He had been
well-nigh the victim himself.
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