Along, not that road they had followed, but another, which led round the farther side of King's Grave Mount, now seen and now hidden by the forest trees, a tall man in armour mounted on a grey horse, accompanied by another man in a leathern jerkin mounted on a black horse, galloped towards them, whilst, at a distance of not more than a hundred yards behind them, appeared a motley mob of pursuers.
"Escaped prisoners being run down," muttered Bolle, but Cicely took no heed.

There was something about the appearance of the rider of the grey horse that seemed to draw her heart out of her.
She leaned forward on her beast's neck, staring with all her eyes.

Now the two men were almost opposite the thicket, and the man in mail turned his face to his companion and called cheerily-- "We gain! We'll slip them yet, Jeffrey." Cicely saw the face.
"Christopher!" she cried; "_Christopher!_" Another moment and they had swept past, but Christopher--for it was he--had caught the sound of that remembered voice.

With eyes made quick by love and fear she saw him pulling on his rein.

She heard him shout to Jeffrey, and Jeffrey shout back to him in tones of remonstrance.
They halted confusedly in the open space beyond.