"Bring me him down like a ripe apple." The fugitive was now within but a few leaps of safety; but this last part of the meadow ran very steeply uphill; and the man ran slower in proportion.

What with the greyness of the falling night, and the uneven movements of the runner, it was no easy aim; and as Dick levelled his bow, he felt a kind of pity, and a half desire that he might miss.

The quarrel sped.
The man stumbled and fell, and a great cheer arose from Hatch and the pursuers.

But they were counting their corn before the harvest.

The man fell lightly; he was lightly afoot again, turned and waved his cap in a bravado, and was out of sight next moment in the margin of the wood.
"And the plague go with him!" cried Bennet.