Four Canadian Highwaymen | Page 9

My other alternative will then be in order. One, two----'
'Hold, hold, I'm coming,' groaned the coward, as he took his place.
'Now, gentlemen, your backs to each other,' said Harland. 'I shall count
one, two, three, and at the end of the last count each man shall wheel
and fire.'
'If I fall I shall have you proceeded against, Drummond-you are in a
conspiracy to murder a sick man.'
'I did not know that Mr. Ham was an Irishman,' chimed in Harland.
'One!'
'Oh!' groaned the respectable Mr. Ham.
'Two--three!' Simultaneously with the word 'three' there was a pistol
shot. The gentlemanly Mr. Ham had fired before his opponent turned.
Before he could see the result of his shot, Gray who had turned
promptly at the word, fired; and with a frightful yell Mr. Ham fell to

the earth, and lay there. The doctor ran up, and putting the fingers of his
left hand upon the fellow's wrist, with the other made search for the
wound.
'Here it is; you have shot him in the left side.'
'Do you think it is fatal?' Roland asked composedly.
'I cannot say; but I really have little hope otherwise.' It was hard to
weigh the value of this statement. It was decidedly an equivocal one.
'I would most certainly advise you to get out of the way, Mr. Gray. He
seems to have no pulse. By the way, are you hit?'
'Yes.'
'Good God, where?' He pointed to his breast; and to the horror of
Harland blood was oozing through his waistcoat.
'Let me attend to you,' the doctor, who had the heartiest sympathy for
our hero, cried, springing up.
'No; you must attend to him. Besides, as I expected, here come the
officers, good-bye.' In a moment he was upon his horse, and galloping
across the stubble-stretches, and clearing the snake fences that divided
field from field, like a bird. The magistrate and two constables, for such
were the officials that comprised the interrupting party, no sooner saw
Roland in flight, than they turned in pursuit at a rate of speed equal to
his own, and called upon him to surrender. He made no reply.
'Then, men, fire upon him,' the magistrate shouted. One of the
constables raised his carbine and fired.

CHAPTER IV.
TO THE EDGE OF MARKHAM SWAMP.

'Swish-h-h' went the clumsy slug past Roland's ear. He grasped his
revolver; and the resolution of the moment was to stand at bay and
fight the churls. But the reflection not occupying the hundredth part of
a second showed him that such a course was not to be thought of. His
antagonist had fallen; but this was only a crime of honour. To shoot the
Queen's officers would be a vulgar felony. So he kept upon his course,
confident in the mettle of his noble horse, who with nostrils distended,
and neck thrust out, would now lay back one ear and now another, as if
to listen to the progress of the pursuers.
At last our hero reached the road, which lay along a level country
skirted on one side by pine groves, and upon the other by the
recently-harvested fields. Turning in his saddle he perceived that while
he had distanced two of his pursuers, the third, the fellow with the
blunder-buss, was gaining slightly upon him. He noticed also that the
officer was engaged as the horse galloped along in putting another
charge into his weapon. About fifteen minutes more of fierce riding
followed; and although Roland's horse showed no signs of exhaustion,
the pursuing beast, which was taller in limb and more lithe, was
remorselessly, though slowly, lessening the distance. The road now
began to sink into a valley, and thick forest grew upon either side.
Roland's pursuer was not more than fifteen paces behind, when the
fugitive heard a scuffing sound. He but too well divined what it was;
and the next moment his horse fell to the road, struck by the slugs from
the pursuer's carbine.
'It is as well,' muttered our hero, as he sprang away from the gasping
beast. The next moment he had disappeared in the dense, dark wood.
Ah! how sheltering, how kindly, seemed that sombre sanctuary, with its
dark grey tufts beneath his feet, and the thick, dusk-green branches of
the fir and pine! The gloomy background seemed to invite him further
into the heart of its shade and silence. No bird whistled through the
glaucous green of this silent, majestic wood; nor was there any
treacherous bramble to crackle beneath his feet. For upon this chill,
grey carpet no flood of sunshine ever came to coax tiny sprays out of
the ground; and the layers of fine needles, or tufts of dank, sunless
moss were soft and noiseless as down under