surrender. Chance had kept the bullets away from him so far, but the
same chance might turn them upon him at any moment. It was a risk that
he must take.

The shouts grew louder. The rapid thudding of hoofs behind him beat on
his ears in that minute of excitement like thunder. Nearer and nearer
came the forest. The rifles behind him were now crashing faster.
It seemed to him that he could almost smell their smoke, and still
neither he nor his horse was hit. After making all due allowance for
badness of aim at a gallop, it was almost a miracle, and he drew new
courage from the fact.

He passed the cornfields and with a sharp jerk of the reins turned his
weary horse into the woods on the right. The forest was thick with a
considerable growth of underbrush, but Harry was a skillful and daring
rider, and he guided his horse so expertly that in a few moments he was
hidden from the view of the cavalry. But he knew that it could not
continue so long. They would spread out, driving everything in front
of them as they advanced. He was still the fox and they were still the
hunters. Yet he had gained something. For a fugitive the forest was
better than the open.

He maintained his direction toward Jackson's camp. His horse leaped a
gully and he barely escaped being swept off on the farther side by the
bough of a tree. Then some of his pursuers caught sight of him again,
and a half dozen shots were fired. He was not touched, but he felt his
horse shiver and he knew at once that the good, true animal had been
hit. A few leaps more and the living machinery beneath him began to jar
heavily.