They had nearly come to an end of the flat by now. In front of them rose
the high black mass of trees where safety lay; somewhere to the right,
not a quarter of a mile in front, just off the road, lay East Maskells.
They would draw rein, he reflected, when they reached the outer gates,
and listen; and if all was quiet behind them, Mary at least should ask
for shelter. For himself, perhaps it would be safer to ride on into the
woods for the present. He began to move his head as he rode to see if
there were any light in the house before him; it seemed dark; but perhaps
he could not see the house from here. Gradually his horse slackened a
little, as the rise in the ground began, and he tossed the reins once or
twice.
Then there was a sharp hiss and blow behind him; his horse snorted and
leapt forward, almost unseating him, and then, still snorting with head
raised and jerking, dashed at the slope. There was a cry and a loud
report; he tugged at the reins, but the horse was beside himself, and he
rode fifty yards before he could stop him. Even as he wrenched him into
submission another horse with head up and flying stirrup and reins
thundered past him and disappeared into the woods beyond the house.
Then, trembling so that he could hardly hold the reins, he urged his
horse back again at a stumbling trot towards what he knew lay at the foot
of the slope, and to meet the tumult that grew in nearness and intensity
up the road along which he had just galloped.
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