little space for good aim, with the mane tossing wildly in front of him.  Now if that young fellow with the gun had his brains as ready as his flint was, he would have shot the horse at once, and then had Stickles at his mercy; but instead of that he let fly at the man, and missed him altogether, being scared perhaps by the pistol which Jeremy showed him the mouth of.  And galloping by at full speed, Master Stickles tried to leave his mark behind him, for he changed the aim of his pistol to the biggest man, who was loading his gun and cursing like ten cannons.  But the pistol missed fire, no doubt from the flood which had gurgled in over the holsters; and Jeremy seeing three horses tethered at a gate just up the hill, knew that he had not yet escaped, but had more of danger behind him.  He tried his other great pistol at one of the horses tethered there, so as to lessen (if possible) the number of his pursuers.  But the powder again failed him; and he durst not stop to cut the bridles, bearing the men coming up the hill.  So he even made the most of his start, thanking God that his weight was light, compared at least to what theirs was.

And another thing he had noticed which gave him some hope of escaping, to wit that the horses of the Doones, although very handsome animals, were suffering still from the bitter effects of the late long frost, and the scarcity of fodder.  “If they do not catch me up, or shoot me, in the course of the first two miles, I may see my home again”; this was what he said to himself as he turned to mark what they were about, from the brow of the steep hill.  He saw the flooded valley shining with the breadth of water, and the trooper’s horse on the other side, shaking his drenched flanks and neighing; and half-way down the hill he saw the three Doones mounting hastily.  And then he knew that his only chance lay in the stoutness of his steed.

The horse was in pretty good condition; and the rider knew him thoroughly, and how to make the most of him; and though they had travelled some miles that day through very heavy ground, the bath in the river had washed the mud off, and been some refreshment.  Therefore Stickles encouraged his nag, and put him into a good hard gallop, heading away towards Withycombe.  At first he had thought of turning to the right, and making off for Withypool, a mile or so down the valley; but his good sense told him that no one there would dare to protect him against the Doones, so he resolved to go on his way; yet faster than he had intended.

The three villains came after him, with all the speed they could muster, making sure from the badness of the road that he must stick fast ere long, and so be at their mercy.  And this was Jeremy’s chiefest fear, for the ground being soft and thoroughly rotten, after so much frost and snow, the poor horse had terrible work of it, with no time to pick the way; and even more good luck than skill was needed to keep him from foundering.  How Jeremy prayed