In his eagerness he had forgotten to shout any alarm about the pickets, but it would have been of no avail, as most of them, under the impulse of alarm, had rushed forward to help extinguish the fires.
He saw the fugitive reach the end of the garden, drop almost flat, and then slip under a broken place in the palings.

At an ordinary time he would have stopped there, but all the instincts of the hunter were aroused.

It was still raining, and he was already soaked.

Wet branches and leaves struck him in the face as he passed, but his energy and eagerness were undimmed.
He, too, dropped at the hole under the broken palings and slid forward face foremost.

The wet grass was as slippery as ice, and after he passed through the hole Dick kept going.