men were already on the threshold. The new missile bounded against them,
tumbled them one against the other, and knocked them sprawling and
struggling on the floor.

Wogan burst into a laugh of exultation; he saw his most dangerous enemy
striving to disentangle himself and his sword.

"Aha, my friend," he cried, "you handle a sword very prettily, but I am
the better man at cock-shies." And shutting the door to be ran down the
passage into the road.

He had seen a house that afternoon with a high garden wall about it a
quarter of a mile away. Wogan ran towards it. The mist was still thick,
but he now began to feel his strength failing. He was wounded in the
shoulder, he was stabbed in the back, and from both wounds the blood was
flowing warm. Moreover, he looked backwards once over his shoulder and
saw a lantern dancing in the road. He kept doggedly running, though his
pace slackened; he heard a shout and an answering shout behind him. He
stumbled onto his knees, picked himself up, and staggered on, labouring
his breath, dizzy. He stumbled again and fell, but as he fell he struck
against the sharp corner of the wall. If he could find an entrance into
the garden beyond that wall! He turned off the road to the left and ran
across a field, keeping close along the side of the wall. He came to
another corner and turned to the right. As he turned he heard voices in
the road. The pursuers had stopped and were searching with the lantern
for traces of his passage. He ran along the back of the wall, feeling
for a projection, a tree, anything which would enable him to climb it.
The wall was smooth, and though the branches of trees swung and creaked
above his head, their stems grew in the garden upon the other side. He
was pouring with sweat, his breath whistled, in his ears he had the