With my heart thumping like a blacksmith at Joe's broad shoulder, I

looked all about for any sign of the convicts. I could see none, I could

hear none. Mr. Wopsle had greatly alarmed me more than once, by his

blowing and hard breathing; but I knew the sounds by this time, and

could dissociate them from the object of pursuit. I got a dreadful

start, when I thought I heard the file still going; but it was only a

sheep-bell. The sheep stopped in their eating and looked timidly at

us; and the cattle, their heads turned from the wind and sleet, stared

angrily as if they held us responsible for both annoyances; but, except

these things, and the shudder of the dying day in every blade of grass,

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there was no break in the bleak stillness of the marshes.

The soldiers were moving on in the direction of the old Battery, and we

were moving on a little way behind them, when, all of a sudden, we all

stopped. For there had reached us on the wings of the wind and rain, a

long shout. It was repeated. It was at a distance towards the east, but

it was long and loud. Nay, there seemed to be two or more shouts raised

together,--if one might judge from a confusion in the sound.

To this effect the sergeant and the nearest men were speaking under

their breath, when Joe and I came up. After another moment's listening,

Joe (who was a good judge) agreed, and Mr. Wopsle (who was a bad judge)

agreed. The sergeant, a decisive man, ordered that the sound should not

be answered, but that the course should be changed, and that his men

should make towards it "at the double." So we slanted to the right

(where the East was), and Joe pounded away so wonderfully, that I had to

hold on tight to keep my seat.

It was a run indeed now, and what Joe called, in the only two words he

spoke all the time, "a Winder." Down banks and up banks, and over gates,

and splashing into dikes, and breaking among coarse rushes: no man cared

where he went. As we came nearer to the shouting, it became more and

more apparent that it was made by more than one voice. Sometimes, it

seemed to stop altogether, and then the soldiers stopped. When it broke

out again, the soldiers made for it at a greater rate than ever, and we

after them. After a while, we had so run it down, that we could hear one

voice calling "Murder!" and another voice, "Convicts! Runaways! Guard!

This way for the runaway convicts!" Then both voices would seem to be

stifled in a struggle, and then would break out again. And when it had

come to this, the soldiers ran like deer, and Joe too.




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