k and heavy sculls to contend with. He had scarcely left the
shore when, another shout was raised from the pursuers. The tramp of
their steeds grew louder and louder.

The boat had scarcely reached the middle of the stream. His captors were
at hand. Quietly did he walk down the bank, and as cautiously enter the
water. There was a plunge, and steed and rider were swimming down the
river.

Major Mowbray was at the brink of the stream. He hesitated an instant,
and stemmed the tide. Seized, as it were, by a mania for equestrian
distinction, Mr. Coates braved the torrent. Not so Paterson. He very
coolly took out his bulldogs, and, watching Turpin, cast up in his own
mind the _pros_ and _cons_ of shooting him as he was crossing. "I could
certainly hit him," thought, or said, the constable; "but what of that?
A dead highwayman is worth nothing--alive, he _weighs_ 300_l_. I won't
shoot him, but I'll make a pretence." And he fired accordingly.

The shot skimmed over the water, but did not, as it was intended, do
much mischief. It, however, occasioned a mishap, which had nearly proved
fatal to our aquatic attorney. Alarmed at the report of the pistol, in
the nervous agitation of the moment Coates drew in his rein so tightly
that his steed instantly sank. A moment or two afterwards he rose,
shaking his ears, and floundering heavily towards the shore; and such
was the chilling effect of this sudden immersion, that Mr. Coates now
thought much more of saving himself than of capturing Turpin. Dick,
meanwhile, had reached the opposite bank, and, refreshed by her bath,
Bess scrambled up the sides of the stream, and speedily regained the
road. "I shall do it yet," shouted Dick; "that stream has saved her.
Hark away, lass! Hark away!"

Bess heard the cheering cry, and she answered to the call. She roused
all her energies; strained every sinew, and put forth all her remaining
strength. Once more, on wings of swiftness, she bore him away from his
pursuers, and Major Mowbray, who had now gained the shore, and made
certain of securing him, beheld him spring, like a wounded hare, from
beneath his very hand.

"It cannot hold out," said the major; "it is but an expiring flash; that
gallant steed must soon drop."

"She be regularly booked, that's certain," said the postboy.

"We shall find her on the road."

Contrary to all expectation, however, Bess held on, and set pursuit at
defiance. Her pace was swift as when she started. But it was