In two minutes his pair was unyoked and
tied to the beam of the plough, his coat off and cast at the back of the
dyke, and as sturdy a pair of legs as any in Liddesdale had joined in
the chase. The robber had not failed to hear the laird's shouts, and as
Little unyoked his horses, he ran on, adding still more to the distance
that already separated him from his pursuers. Clearly his best chance
was to leave the high-road and get on to ground where it was impossible,
or, at least, most unlikely, that a mounted man could follow him.
Through hedges he clambered, vaulted dry stone dykes, leapt ditches,
made somewhat heavy weather over the plough, but got away on rough turf
up the hillside. The morning wore on, and both hunters and hunted wished
that the sun had shone less warmly on that March day. On a steep part of
High Tofts Hill, however, the chase at last came to an end. The steep
face of the hill was more than the laird's good steed could manage,
though nobly, in response to his call, did it do its best. He had to
turn back and come round by a part where the ascent was less steep,
while Little, hot but undaunted, went on with the chase alone. The
robber's extra weight was telling on him, and he was not in the hard
training of the young Border farmer.
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