The savages had to climb the hill and, when they reached its crest, the fugitives were out of bow-shot range.
A yell broke from them as they saw the lads, but these had made the best use of their time, and reached the wood some two hundred yards ahead of their pursuers.

Ned dashed into the undergrowth and tore his way through it, Tom close at his heels.

Sometimes they came to open spaces, and here each time Ned changed the direction of their flight, choosing spots where they could take to the underwood without showing any sign, such as broken boughs, of their entrance.
After an hour's running the yells and shouts, which had at first seemed close behind, gradually lessened, and were now but faintly heard.

Then, utterly exhausted, the lads threw themselves on the ground.

In a few minutes, however, Ned rose again.
"Come, Tom," he said, "we must keep on.