far more
swiftly than its current to its confluence with the Aire.

Snaith was past. He was on the road to Selby when dawn first began to
break. Here and there a twitter was heard in the hedge; a hare ran
across his path, gray-looking as the morning self; and the mists began
to rise from the earth. A bar of gold was drawn against the east, like
the roof of a gorgeous palace. But the mists were heavy in this world of
rivers and their tributary streams. The Ouse was before him, the Trent
and Aire behind; the Don and Derwent on either hand, all in their way to
commingle their currents ere they formed the giant Humber. Amid a region
so prodigal of water, no wonder the dews fell thick as rain. Here and
there the ground was clear; but then again came a volley of vapor, dim
and palpable as smoke.

While involved in one of these fogs, Turpin became aware of another
horseman by his side. It was impossible to discern the features of the
rider, but his figure in the mist seemed gigantic; neither was the color
of his steed distinguishable. Nothing was visible except the
meagre-looking, phantom-like outline of a horse and his rider, and, as
the unknown rode upon the turf that edged the way, even the sound of the
horse's hoofs was scarcely audible. Turpin gazed, not without
superstitious awe. Once or twice he essayed to address the strange
horseman, but his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth. He fancied he
discovered in the mist-exaggerated lineaments of the stranger a wild and
fantastic resemblance to his friend Tom King. "It must be Tom," thought
Turpin; "he is come to warn me of my approaching end. I will speak to
him."

But terror o'ermastered his speech. He could not force out a word, and
thus side by side they rode in silence. Quaking with fears he would
scarcely acknowledge to himself, Dick watched every motion of his
companion. He was still, stern, spectre-like, erect; and looked for all
the world like a demon on his phantom steed. His courser seemed, in the
indistinct outline, to be huge and bony, and, as he snorted furiously
in the fog, Dick's heated imagination supplied his breath with a due
proportion of flame. Not a word was spoken--not a sound heard, save the
sullen dead beat of his hoofs upon the grass. It was intolerable to ride
thus cheek by jowl with a goblin. Dick could stand it no longer. He put
spurs to his horse, and endeavored to escape. But it might not be. The
stranger, apparently without effort, was st