Meanwhile the picket had sprung to their saddles, and looked wildly about on every side.
Not a moment was to be lost; so turning our horses' heads towards the plain, away we went.

One loud cheer announced to us that we had been seen, and the next instant the clash of the pursuing cavalry was heard behind us.
It was now entirely a question of speed, and little need we have feared had Mike's horse not been doubly weighted.

However, as we still had considerably the start, and the gray dawn of day enabled us to see the ground, the odds were in our favor.

"Never let your horse's head go," was my often repeated direction to Mike, as he spurred with all the desperation of madness.

Already the low meadow-land was in sight which flanked the stream we had crossed in the morning, but unfortunately the heavy rains had swollen it now to a considerable depth, and the muddy current, choked with branches of trees and great stones, was hurrying down like a torrent.