They rode furiously in the hope of overtaking him before he reached the next polling-place. Milton was in the lead on his gray colt, a magnificent creature. He was light and a fine rider, and forged ahead of the elder men. But the "spy" was also riding a fine horse, and was riding very fast. When they reached the next polling-place he was just passing out of sight beyond. They dashed up, scattering the wondering crowd. "It's a lie! It's a trick!" shouted Milton. "Deering wouldn't withdraw. Cast every vote for Deering. It's all done to fool yeh!" The others came thundering up. "It's a lie!" they shouted. "Come on!" cried Milton, dropping the rein on Mark's neck, and darting away on the trail of the false courier. The young fellows caught the excitement, and every one who had a horse leaped into the saddle and clattered after, with whoop and halloo, as if they were chasing a wolf. The rider ahead suddenly discovered that he was being followed, and he urged his horse to a more desperate pace along the lane which skirted the woods' edge for a mile, and then turned sharply and led across the river. Along the lane is the chase led. There was something in the grim silence with which Milton and Bacon rode in the lead that startled the spy's guilty heart. He pushed his horse unmercifully, hoping to discourage his pursuers. Milton's blood was up now, and bringing the flat of his hand down on the proud neck of his colt--the first blow he ever struck him, he shouted-- "Get out o' this, Mark!" The magnificent animal threw out his chin, his ears laid flat back, he seemed to lower and lengthen, his eyes took on a wild glare. The air whizzed by Milton's ears. A wild exultation rose in his heart. All the stories of rides and desperate men he had ever read came back in a vague mass to make his heart thrill. Mark's terrific pace steadily ate up the intervening distance, and Milton turned the corner and thundered down the decline at the very heels of the fugitive. "Hey! Hold on there!" Milton shouted, as he drew alongside and passed the fellow. "Hold on there!" "Git out o' my way!" was the savage answer. "Stop right here!" commanded Milton, reining Mark in the way of the other horse. The fellow struck Mark. "Git out o' my way!" he yelled. Milton seized the bit of the other horse and held it. The fellow raised his arm and struck him twice before Bacon came thundering up. "H'yare! Damn yeh--none o' that!" He leaped from his horse, and running up, tore the rider from his saddle in one swift effort. The fellow struggled fiercely. "Let go o' me, 'r I'll kill yeh!" Bacon growled something inarticulate as he cuffed the man from side to side, shook him like a rag, and threw him to the ground. He lay there dazed and scared, while Bacon caught his horse and tied it to a tree. He came back to the fellow as he was rising, and again laid his bear-like clutch upon him.