A rope was the fate for a spy.

But he recovered himself and walked on faster than ever.

The cabins thinned away, and he saw before him bushes.

His keen hearing brought to him the soft sound of the pursuing footsteps.

Now he took his resolution.
There were few games at which two could not play.
He passed between two bushes, came around and returned to the open.
But he returned with one of the pistols cocked and levelled, his finger on the trigger.