quickened his steps so as to bring him in touch with the offenders.

As he did so, I suddenly perceived with extraordinary clearness that I
should never again get quite such a good chance to escape. The other
men were momentarily between me and the warder, while the civil guard,
his carbine empty, was plunging through the trees in pursuit of his
wounded quarry.

It was no time for hesitation, and in any case hesitation is not one
of my besetting sins. I recollect taking one long, deep breath: then
the next thing I remember is catching my toe on the top of the
wall and coming the most unholy purler in the very centre of an
exceptionally well armoured blackberry bush.

This blunder probably saved my life: it certainly accounted for my
escape. The warder who evidently had more nerve than I gave him credit
for, must have fired at me from where he was, right between the heads
of the other convicts. It was only my abrupt disappearance from the
top of the wall that saved me from being filled up with lead. As
it was, the charge whistled over me just as I fell, and a devilish
unpleasant noise it made too.

I didn't wait for him to reload. I was out of that bush and off up the
hill in rather less time than it takes to read these words. Where I
was going I scarcely thought; my one idea was to put as big a distance
as possible between myself and the carbine before its owner could ram
home a second cartridge.

As I ran, twisting in and out between the trees, and keeping my head
as low as possible, I could hear behind me a hoarse uproar from my