The old man tumbled beside the path with his head against the potato fence.

Zeb with a curse took to his heels and ran; nor for a hundred yards did he glance behind.
When at last he flung a look over his shoulder, the hollibubber had picked himself up and was kneeling in the pathway.

His hands were clasped and lifted.
"Too late!" shouted Zeb again, and dashed on without a second look..