I listened. Away, far behind us, in the still of the evening--it was
just half-past nine--we heard the beat of horses' hoofs. The wind
blowing strong behind us, carried the sound. I glanced at Sapt.

"Come on!" he cried, and spurred his horse into a gallop. When we next
paused to listen, the hoof-beats were not audible, and we relaxed our
pace. Then we heard them again. Sapt jumped down and laid his ear to the
ground.

"There are two," he said. "They're only a mile behind. Thank God the
road curves in and out, and the wind's our way."

We galloped on. We seemed to be holding our own. We had entered the
outskirts of the forest of Zenda, and the trees, closing in behind us as
the track zigged and zagged, prevented us seeing our pursuers, and them
from seeing us.

Another half-hour brought us to a divide of the road. Sapt drew rein.

"To the right is our road," he said. "To the left, to the Castle. Each
about eight miles. Get down."

"But they'll be on us!" I cried.

"Get down!" he repeated brusquely; and I obeyed. The wood was dense up
to the very edge of the road. We led our horses into the covert, bound
handkerchiefs over their eyes, and stood beside them.

"You want to see who they are?" I whispered.