It was past midnight, and it seemed to some that they had been riding an
eternity; yet even these roused at sight of the great western highway.
The night coaches had long gone eastwards, and the road, so busy by day,
stretched before them dim, shadowy, and empty, as solitary in the
darkness as the remotest lane. But the knowledge that Bath lay at the
end of it--and no more than nine miles away--and that there they could
procure aid, fresh horses and willing helpers, put new life even into
the most weary. Even Mr. Fishwick, now groaning with fatigue and now
crying 'Oh dear! oh dear!' as he bumped, in a way that at another time
must have drawn laughter from a stone, took heart of grace; while Sir
George settled down to a dogged jog that had something ferocious in its
determination. If he could not trot, he would amble; if he could not
amble, he would walk; if his horse could not walk, he would go on his
feet. He still kept eye and ear bent forward, but in effect he had given
up hope of overtaking the quarry before it reached Bath; and he was
taken by surprise when the servant, who rode first and had eased his
horse to a walk at the foot of Haslebury Hill, drew rein and cried to
the others to listen.
For a moment the heavy breathing of the four horses covered all other
sounds. Then in the darkness and the distance, on the summit of the rise
before them, a wheel creaked as it grated over a stone. A few seconds
and the sound was repeated; then all was silent. The chaise had passed
over the crest and was descending the other side.
Oblivious of everything except that Julia was within his reach,
forgetful even of Dunborough by whose side he had ridden all night--in
silence but with many a look askance--Sir George drove his horse
forward, scrambled and trotted desperately up the hill, and, gaining the
summit a score of yards in front of his companions, crossed the brow and
drew rein to listen. He had not been mistaken. He could hear the wheels
creaking, and the wheelers stumbling and slipping in the darkness below
him; and with a cry he launched his horse down the descent.
Whether the people with the chaise heard the cry or not, they appeared
to take the alarm at that moment. He heard a whip crack, the carriage
bound forward, the horses break into a reckless canter. But if they
recked little he recked less; already he was plunging down the hill
after them, his beast almost pitching on its head with every stride. The
huntsman knows, however, that many stumbles go to a fall. The bottom was
gained in safety by both, and across the flat they went, the chaise
bounding and rattling behind the scared horses. Now Sir George had a
glimpse of the black mass through the gloom, now it seemed to be gaining
on him, now it was gone, and now again he drew up to it and the dim
outline bulked bigger and plainer, and bigger and plainer, until he was
close upon it, and the cracking whips and the shouts of the postboys
rose above the din of hoofs and wheels. The carriage was swaying
perilously, but Sir George saw that the ground was rising, and that up
the hill he must win; and, taking his horse by the head, he lifted it on
by sheer strength until his stirrup was abreast of the hind wheels. A
moment, and he made out the bobbing figure of the leading postboy, and,
drawing his pistol, cried to him to stop.