utting point of rock. Now he was a fair
mark--no, he had swept swiftly by, and was out of sight before a gun
could be raised. They reached the same point. He was still before them,
but his race was nearly run. Steep, slippery rocks, shelving down to the
edges of a small, deep pool of water, the source of the stream, formed
an apparently insurmountable barrier in that direction. Rooted--Heaven
knows how!--in some reft or fissure of the rock, grew a wild ash,
throwing out a few boughs over the solitary pool; this was all the
support Luke could hope for, should he attempt to scale the rock. The
rock was sheer--the pool deep--yet still he hurried on. He reached the
muddy embankment; mounted its sides; and seemed to hesitate. The keepers
were now within a hundred yards of him. Both guns were discharged. And,
sudden as the reports, with a dead, splashless plunge, like a diving
otter, the fugitive dropped into the water.
The pursuers were at the brink. They gazed at the pool. A few bubbles
floated upon its surface, and burst. The water was slightly discolored
with sand. No ruddier stain crimsoned the tide; no figure rested on the
naked rock; no hand clung to the motionless tree.
"Devil take the rascal!" growled one; "I hope he harn't escaped us,
arter all."
"Noa, noa, he be fast enough, never fear," rejoined the other; "sticking
like a snig at the bottom o' the pond; and, dang him! he deserves it,
for he's slipped out of our fingers like a snig often enough to-night.
But come, let's be stumping, and give poor Hugh Badger a helping hand."
Whereupon they returned to the assistance of the wounded and discomfited
keeper.
_CHAPTER IV_
_THE HALL_
I am right against my house--seat of my ancestors.
_Yorkshire Tragedy._
Rookwood Place was a fine, old, irregular pile, of considerable size,
presenting a rich, picturesque outline, with its innumerable gable-ends,
its fantastical coigns, and tall crest of twisted chimneys. There was no
uniformity of style about the building, yet the general effect was
pleasing and beautiful. Its very irregularity constituted a charm.
Nothing except convenience had been consulted in its construction:
additions had from time to time been made to it, but everything dropped
into its proper place, and, without apparent effort or design, grew into
an ornament, and heightened the beauty of the whole. It was, in short,
one of those g
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