The halt had not been made half-a-dozen seconds, when the voices of the party ascending in chase, were heard above the fugitives.  Willoughby felt an impulse to dash down the path, bearing Maud in his arms, but Nick interposed his own body to so rash a movement.  There was not time for a discussion, and the sounds of voices, speaking English too distinctly to pass for any but those of men of English birth, or English origin, were heard disputing about the course to be taken, at the point of junction between the two paths.

“Go by the lower,” called out one, from the rear; “he will run down the stream, and make for the settlements on the Hudson.  Once before, he has done this, as I know from Strides himself.”

“D—–­n Strides!” answered another, more in front.  “He is a sniveling scoundrel, who loves liberty, as a hog loves corn for the sake of good living.  I say go the upper, which will carry him on the heights, and bring him out near his father’s garrison.”

“Here are marks of feet on the upper,” observed a third, “though they seem to be coming down, instead of going up the hill.”

“It is the trail of the fellows who have helped him to escape.  Push up the hill, and we shall have them all in ten minutes.  Push up—­push up.”

This decided the matter.  It appeared to Willoughby that at least a dozen men ran up the path, above his head, eager in the pursuit, and anticipating success.  Nick waited no longer, but glided down the cliff, and was soon in the broad path which led along the margin of the stream, and was the ordinary thoroughfare in going to or from the Knoll.  Here the fugitives, as on the advance, were exposed to the danger of accidental meetings; but, fortunately, no one was met, or seen, and the bridge was passed in safety.  Turning short to the north, Nick plunged into the woods again, following the cow-path by which he had so recently descended to the glen.  No pause was made even here.  Willoughby had an arm round the waist of Maud, and bore her forward, with a rapidity to which her own strength was altogether unequal.  In less than ten minutes from the time the prisoner had escaped, the fugitives reached the level of the rock of the water-fall, or that of the plain of the Dam.  As it was reasonably certain that none of the invaders had passed to that side of the valley, haste was no longer necessary, and Maud was permitted to pause for breath.

The halt was short, however, our heroine, herself, now feeling as if the major could not be secure until he was fairly within the palisades.  In vain did Willoughby try to pacify her fears and to assure her of his comparative safety; Maud’s nerves were excited, and then she had the dreadful tidings, which still remained to be told pressing upon her spirits, and quickening all her natural impulses and sentiments.