Thud!—­thud!—­untiring, persistent—­thud!—­thud!—­the pulse at my temples throbbed in time with it, my breath panted to it.  And surely it was nearer, more distinct—­yes, he had gained on me in the last half-mile—­but how much?  I cast a look over my shoulder; it was but a glance, yet I saw that he had lessened the distance between us by half.  His face shone with sweat—­his mouth was a line—­his nostrils broad and expanded—­his eyes staring and shot with blood, but he ran on with the same long easy stride that was slowly but surely wearing me down.

We were descending a long, grassy slope, and I stumbled, more than once, and rolled in my course, but on came those remorseless footfalls—­thud!—­thud!—­thud!—­thud!—­strong and sure as ever.  He was nearing me fast—­he was close upon me—­closer—­within reach of me.  I could hear his whistling breaths, and then, all at once, I was down on hands and knees; he tried to avoid me —­failed, and, shooting high over me, thudded down upon the grass.

For a moment he lay still, then, with a groan, he rolled over, and propping himself on his arm, thrust a hand into his bosom; but I hurled myself upon him, and, after a brief struggle, twisted the pistol from his grasp, whereupon he groaned again.

“Hurt?” I panted.

“Arm broke, I think,” he growled, and forthwith burst out into a torrent of curses.

“Does it—­hurt—­so much?” I panted.

“Ah! but it—­ain’t that,” he panted back; “it’s me—­a-lettin’ of you—­work off—­a mouldy—­old trick on me—­like—­that there—­”

“It was my only chance,” said I, sitting down beside him to regain my wind.

“To think,” he growled, “o’ me bein’ took in by a—­”

“But you are a great runner!” said I.

“A great fool, you mean, to be took in by a—­”

“You have a long walk back, and your arm will be painful—­”

“And serve me right for bein’ took in by—­”

“If you will lend me your neckerchief, I think I can make your arm more comfortable,” said I. He ceased cursing to stare at me, slowly and awkwardly unwound the article in question, and passed it to me.  Thereupon, having located the fracture, I contrived a rough splint with a piece of wood lying near; which done, he thanked me, in a burst of profanity, and rose.

“I’ve see worse coves nor you!” said he, “and one good turn desarvin’ another—­lie snug all day, and travel by night, and keep to the byroads—­this ain’t no common case, there’ll be a thousand pound on your ’ead afore the week’s out—­so look spry, my cove!” saying which, he nodded, turned upon his heel, and strode away, cursing to himself.

Now, presently, as I went, I heard the merry ring and clink of hammer and anvil, and, guided by the sound, came to a tumbledown smithy where was a man busily at work, with a shock-headed boy at the bellows.  At sight of me, the smith set down his hammer and stared openmouthed, as did also the shock-headed boy.