undred yards
behind; and I saw that he was bearing his child, little Ensie, before
him. Ensie also descried me, and stretched his hands and cried to me;
for the face of his father frightened him.

Carver Doone, with a vile oath, thrust spurs into his flagging horse,
and laid one hand on a pistol stock, whence I knew that his slung
carbine has received no bullet since the one that had pierced Lorna. And
a cry of triumph rose from the black depths of my heart. What cared I
for pistols? I had no spurs, neither was my horse one to need the rowel;
I rather held him in than urged him, for he was fresh as ever; and I
knew that the black steed in front, if he breasted the steep ascent,
where the track divided, must be in our reach at once.

His rider knew this, and, having no room in the rocky channel to turn
and fire, drew rein at the crossways sharply, and plunged into the black
ravine leading to the Wizard's Slough. "Is it so?" I said to myself,
with brain and head cold as iron; "though the foul fiend come from the
slough to save thee, thou shalt carve it, Carver."

I followed my enemy carefully, steadily, even leisurely--for I had him
as in a pitfall, whence no escape might be. He thought that I feared
to approach him, for he knew not where he was; and his low, disdainful
laugh came back.

"Laugh he who wins," thought I.

A gnarled and half-starved oak, as stubborn as my own resolve, and
smitten by some storm of old, hung from the crag above me. Rising from
my horse's back, although I had no stirrups, I caught a limb, and tore
it (like a mere wheat-awn) from the socket. Men show the rent even now
with wonder--none with more wonder than myself.

Carver Doone turned the corner suddenly on the black and bottomless bog;
with a start of fear he reigned back his horse, and I thought he would
have turned upon me. Upon this he made up his mind; and, wheeling,
fired, and then rode at me.

His bullet struck me somewhere, but I took no heed of that. Fearing only
his escape, I laid my horse across the way, and with the limb of the
oak struck full on the forehead his charging steed. Ere the slash of the
sword came nigh me, man and horse rolled over, and well-nigh bore my own
horse down with the power of their onset.

Carver Doone was somewhat stunned, and could not arise for a moment.
Meanwhile I leaped on the ground and waited, smoothing my hair back and
baring my arm as though in the ring for wrestling. Then the little boy
r