But the bank was steep and the landing bad, and the weight of
Will's saturated riding-cloak was the last straw that hindered the horse
from scrambling up. With a curse Will cut the fastening that held the
cloak about his neck, and, relieved from the extra weight, the animal
with a desperate struggle gained the top of the bank and got away well
ahead of the pursuing troopers. Had it not been for the speed and
stamina of his horse, Will had surely been taken that night. As it was,
ere they reached the Esk, one trooper was already far in front of his
comrades, and thundering on Will's very heels. But a pistol pointed at
his head by Will, a pistol with priming saturated, and incapable of
being fired--had the man only thought of it--caused the trooper to draw
back out of danger, and Will gained Esk's farther bank in safety, where,
regardless of possible pistol shots, he waited to taunt his baffled
pursuers.
THE WRAITH OF PATRICK KERR
This is a tale they tell at the darkening, and you who are Rulewater
folk probably know it well. But however well you may know it, you have
to own that it is an eerie thing to listen to when the fire is dying
down, and there are queer-shaped shadows playing on the walls, and
outside in the wood the owls are beginning to hoot, or, from the far
moor, there comes a curlew's cry.
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