clinched teeth. "That completes the ruin Mary began. If I should happen
to catch up with him, I trust I shall have the moral strength not to
knock his head off--his skull off; it isn't a head."

Lynde's sole hope of overtaking him, and it was a very slender hope, was
based on the possibility that the man might fall and disable himself;
but he seemed to have the sure-footedness as well as the lightness of a
deer. When Lynde reached the outskirts of the village, on the road by
which he had entered, the agile ship-builder was more than halfway up
the hill. Lynde made a fresh spurt here, and lost his hat; but he had no
time to turn back for it. Every instant widened the space between the
two runners, as one of them noticed with disgust. At the top of the
ascent the man halted a moment to take breath, and then disappeared
behind the ridge. He was on the down grade now, and of course gaining at
each stride on his pursuer, who was still toiling upward. Lynde did not
slacken his pace, however; he had got what runners call their second
wind. With lips set, elbows pressed against his sides, and head thrown
forward, he made excellent time to the brow of the hill, where he
suddenly discovered himself in the midst of a crowd of men and horses.

For several seconds Lynde was so dazed and embarrassed that he saw
nothing; then his eyes fell upon the girl with the long hair and the
white gown. She was seated sidewise on a horse without saddle, and the
horse was Mary. A strapping fellow was holding the animal by the head-
stall.

"By Jove!" cried Lynde, springing forward joyfully, "that's my mare!"

He was immediately seized by two men who attempted to pass a cord over
his wrists. Lynde resisted so desperately that a third man was called