He would not. Unwounded and vigorous, he gained on me at
every step; but, forgetting everything in the world except him and my
thirst for his blood, I pressed on, and soon the deep shades of the
forest of Zenda engulfed us both, pursued and pursuer.
It was three o'clock now, and day was dawning. I was on a long straight
grass avenue, and a hundred yards ahead ran young Rupert, his curls
waving in the fresh breeze. I was weary and panting; he looked over his
shoulder and waved his hand again to me. He was mocking me, for he saw
he had the pace of me. I was forced to pause for breath. A moment later,
Rupert turned sharply to the right and was lost from my sight.
I thought all was over, and in deep vexation sank on the ground. But I
was up again directly, for a scream rang through the forest--a woman's
scream. Putting forth the last of my strength, I ran on to the place
where he had turned out of my sight, and, turning also, I saw him again.
But alas! I could not touch him. He was in the act of lifting a girl
down from her horse; doubtless it was her scream that I heard. She
looked like a small farmer's or a peasant's daughter, and she carried
a basket on her arm. Probably she was on her way to the early market at
Zenda. Her horse was a stout, well shaped animal.
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