The intervening space was a mass of heavy green foliage, which the eye, now that the twilight was at hand, could penetrate only a few score yards.

A northeast wind off the distant mountain tops was cold and sharp, and Harry, who wore no overcoat, shivered a little.
Young though he was, he remembered the liveryman's caution, and he watched the forest on either side, as well as he could.

But he depended more upon his keenness of ear.

He did not believe the stirring of any large force in the thickets could pass him unheard, and, having nursed the strength of his great horse, he felt that he could leave almost any pursuit far behind.
The twilight sank into a dark and heavy night.

The moon and stars lay behind drifting clouds and, now and then, came a swish of cold rain.
Harry was not able to see more than a few yards to right or left, when the road ran through the woods, as it did most of the time, and not much further when fields chanced to lie on either side.
He was within a mile of Pendleton, and his heart began to throb, not with thoughts of Skelly, but because he would soon be in his old home again.