He knew that they could not overtake him,
and they would not dare to pursue him long. He glanced back. They
were a full hundred yards in the rear, riding all four abreast. He
remembered his own pistol, and, drawing it from his belt, he sent a
bullet toward the pursuit. It was too long a range for serious work,
but he intended it as a warning that he, too, was armed and would fight.
The road still ran through the forest with the hills close on the left.
Up went the sun, casting a golden glory over the white earth. Harry
beheld afar only a single spire of smoke. The houses were few in that
region, and he might go four or five miles without seeing a single human
being, save those who pursued. But he was not afraid. His confidence
lay chiefly in the powerful animal that he rode, and he saw the distance
between him and the four men lengthen from a hundred to two hundred
yards. One of them fired another shot at him, but it only shook the
snow from a tree fifteen feet away. He could not keep from sending back
a taunting cry.
On went the sun up the curve of the heavens, and the brilliant light
grew. The forest thinned away. The line of hills retreated, and before
him lay fields, extending to both right and left.
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