oner was at hand. They dropped the manacles, and
tried to throw Ralph on to the back of one of their horses. Sim was
dragging their horse away. The dog was barking furiously and tearing
at their legs. But they were succeeding: they were overpowering him;
they had him on the ground.

Now, they were all in the gap of the furze bushes, struggling in the
shallow stream. Robbie dropped the reins of the mare, and ran to
Ralph's aid. At that moment a mighty gust of wind came down from the
fell, and swept through the channel. It caught the mare, and startled
by the loud cries of the men and the barking of the dog, and
affrighted by the tempest, she started away at a terrific gallop over
the mountains, with the coffin on her back.

"The mare, the mare!" cried Ralph, who had seen the accident as Robbie
dropped the reins; "for God's sake, after her!"

The strength of ten men came into his limbs at this. He rose from
where the men held him down, and threw them from him as if they had
been green withes that he snapped asunder. They fell on either side,
and lay where they fell. Then he ran to where the young horse stood a
few paces away, and lifting the boy from the saddle leapt into it
himself. In a moment he was galloping after the mare.

But she had already gone far. She was flying before the wind towards
the great dark pikes in the distance. Already the mists were obscuring
her. Ralph followed on and on, until the company that stood as though
paralyzed on the pass could see him no mere.

CHAPTER XIII. A 'BATABLE POINT.

When Constable David tried to rise after that fall, he discovered too
many reasons to believe that his leg had been broken. Constable
Jonathan had fared better as to wind and limb, but upon regaining his
feet he found the voice of duty silent within him as to the necessity
of any further action such as might expose him to more serious
disabilities. With the spirit of the professional combatant, he rather
admired the prowess of their adversary, and certainly bore him no
ill-will because he had vanquished them.

"The man's six foot high if he's an inch, and has the strength of an
ox," he said, as he bent over his coadjutor and inquired into the
nature of his bruises.

Constable David seemed disposed to exhibit less of the resignation of
a brave humility that can find solace and even food for self-flattery
in defeat, than of the vexation of a cowardly pride that cannot
reconcile itself to a stumble