Two men dashed after the prisoner they had made, and in another instant they would have had him, but for Mark's quick movement.

He caught his sister's rein, touched his horse's side with the spurs, and the two active animals sprang between the men and their quarry as they were sharply turned.
"Lay hold of my nag's mane, Darley," he shouted to the prisoner, who held up his bound hands, and caught at the dense mass of hair, succeeding in holding on, while Mark now drew his sword.
"Oh Mark!" cried his sister, "is there any danger ?" "Not if you sit fast," he cried.--"Can you keep up if we canter ?" "Try," said the prisoner excitedly.

"If not, go on, and save yourselves." The horses broke into a sharp canter, keeping well together, as the men they had seen following them with drawn swords, and joined up across the narrow way, shouted to them to stop.
Mark's reply to this was a yell of defiance.
"Sit fast, Mary," he cried.

"They must go down before your horse." The girl made no answer, but crouched lower in her saddle, as they rode on, Mark in his excitement pressing home his spurs, and causing his horse to make a frantic leap.

But there was no collision; the men leaped off to right and left to avoid the charge, and the next moment they were behind.
"Well done!" cried Mark excitedly.