At his fourth stroke Anthony misjudged the angle, and his axe stuck. As he leaned forward to lever it out of the wood, there was the whirr of steel falling, and he flung himself back with a cry. The other had struck without waiting for him to get clear. As an error of judgment, the thing was inexplicable. A child of six would have known better. And an axe was no pop-gun. For a moment he stared at Winchester like a man in a dream. His employer blinked back.... Then his eyes narrowed. "_You're_ getting curious, are you?" he said thickly. In spite of himself, Anthony started. Loosely nursing his implement, the other took a step to one side. There was not much in the movement, but it placed him between Lyveden and the road. Anthony kept his eyes riveted upon the powerful hands playing with the haft of the axe.... Twenty paces away a saw was going. Raised above the din could be heard the engineer's voice calling for the return of his pencil. A distant clatter of timber told that the waggon was being unloaded. Anthony moistened his lips. For another pair of eyes he would have given anything. Any moment now he would have to jump--one way or the other. It did not matter which. The going was equally bad. But if he met an obstruction--caught his foot in a root--fell among briers at the outset, he knew he was doomed. The impulse to glance to one side was terrible. Yet he dared not take his eyes from those terrible itching fingers. If only one of the men---- The noise of the saw stopped, and a piece of wood fell with a thud. Blake's voice was heard asking the whereabouts of his rule. The answer was inaudible, but the next moment somebody started to move in the direction of the fir. As they passed Patch, they chirruped. In an instant the axe leapt to Winchester's shoulder, and Anthony jumped.... A moment later Blake parted the bushes, to see his employer wrench free an axe which had bitten into the ground, and hurl himself after Lyveden, who was on his feet again and running steadily about six paces ahead. For a second the fellow stared stupidly. Then he let out a yell and started in pursuit. The two ex-officers were evenly matched. If Anthony was the lighter and younger, Winchester had run for Oxford. Moreover, the latter knew the woods like the back of his hand. Anthony, who did not, ran blindly. This was not a moment to pick and choose. All the time he was desperately afraid of mire....