It was not a dark night, but a mist rolling inland from
the sea--one of those white mists well known along the south coast, which
predicate hot weather--enveloped them impenetrably except at very short
range.
"Halt!" they heard the Captain cry, halfway down the hill.
"Ay, it is likely we shall halt for that," said the stranger, with a laugh.
"I'll show him," and, turning in his saddle, he discharged a pistol down
the road. "That's for our enemies," he remarked grimly, "and may it hit
someone!"
A few moments later came an answering shot, whistling past their heads
ominously.
"Break for the nearest copse," replied the stranger, promptly, "for a
council of war. Quick, now's the time! The top of the hill is cover for
us." So saying, he put his horse to the bank, cleared it, and galloped over
the field to the trees which loomed grey and indefinite before them.
The others followed. In two minutes they were under the boughs. Not daring
to breathe, they heard the troopers thunder along the highroad, all
unconscious for the moment of the trick that had been played them.
"Now," said the stranger briefly, "we must divide. I shall proceed to
Portallan alone very warily."
The faces of the boys fell at these words.
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