he could not collect his
thoughts for a few seconds; but when Gascoyne nodded gravely to his
mother and walked quietly away, saying, "Goodbye, Mary," the exasperated
youth darted through the doorway like an arrow.

If Henry Stuart's rush may be compared to the flight of an arrow from a
bow, not less appropriately may Gascoyne's bound be likened to the leap
of the bolt from a cross-bow. The two men sprang over the low fences
that surrounded the cottage, leapt the rivulet that brawled down its
steep course behind it, and coursed up the hill like mountain hares.

The last that widow Stuart saw of them, as she gazed eagerly from the
doorway of the hut, was, when Gascoyne's figure was clearly defined
against the sky as he leaped over a great chasm in the lava high up the
mountain side. Henry followed almost instantly, and then both were
hidden from view in the chaos of rocks and gorges that rose above the
upper line of vegetation.

It was a long and a severe chase that Henry had undertaken, and ably did
his fleet foot sustain the credit which he had already gained. But
Gascoyne's foot was fleeter. Over every species of ground did the
sandal-wood trader lead the youth that day. It seemed, in fact, as if a
spirit of mischief had taken possession of Gascoyne, for his usually
grave face was lighted up with a mingled expression of glee and
ferocity. It changed, too, and wore a sad expression, at times, even
when the man seemed to be running for his life.

At last, after running until he had caused Henry to shew symptoms of
fatigue, Gascoyne turned suddenly round, and, shouting "Good-bye, Henry,
my lad!" went straight up the mountain and disappeared over the dividing
ridge on the summit.

Henry did not give in. The insult implied in the words renewed his
strength. He tightened his belt as he ran, and rushed up the mountain
almost as fast as Gascoyne had done, but when he leaped upon the ridge
the fugitive had vanished!

That he had secreted himself in one of the many gorges or caves with
which the place abounded was quite clear, but it was equally clear that
no one could track him out in such a place unless he were possessed of a
dog's nose. The youth did indeed attempt it, but, being convinced that
he was only searching for what could not by any possibility be found, he
soon gave it up and returned, disconsolate and crest-fallen, to the
cottage.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

MYSTERIOUS CONSULTATIONS AND PLANS--GASCOYNE