Luke shuddered. The fire of revenge was quenched. He mentally cancelled
his rash oath; yet he could not bring himself to surrender at
discretion, and without further effort. The keeper and his assistants
were approaching the spot where he lay, and searching for his body. Hugh
Badger was foremost, and within a yard of him.
"Confound the rascal!" cried Hugh, "he's not half killed; he seems to
breathe."
The words were scarcely out of his mouth ere the speaker was dashed
backwards, and lay sprawling upon the sod. Suddenly and unexpectedly, as
an Indian chief might rush upon his foes, Luke arose, dashing himself
with great violence against Hugh, who happened to stand in his way, and
before the startled assistants, who were either too much taken by
surprise, or unwilling to draw a trigger, could in any way lay hands
upon him, exerting all the remarkable activity which he possessed, he
caught hold of a projecting branch of a tree, and swung himself, at a
single bound, fairly over the paling.
Hugh Badger was shortly on his legs, swearing lustily at his defeat.
Directing his men to skirt alongside the fence, and make for a
particular part of the plantation which he named, and snatching a loaded
fowling-piece from one of them, he clambered over the pales, and guided
by the crashing branches and other sounds conveyed to his quick ear, he
was speedily upon Luke's track.
The plantation through which the chase now took place was not, as might
be supposed, a continuation of the ring fence which Luke had originally
crossed on his entrance into the park, though girded by the same line of
paling, but, in reality, a close pheasant preserve, occupying the banks
of a ravine, which, after a deep and tortuous course, terminated in the
declivity heretofore described as forming the park boundary. Luke
plunged into the heart of this defile, fighting his way downwards, in
the direction of the brook. His progress was impeded by a thick
undergrowth of brier, and other matted vegetation, as well as by the
entanglements thrown in his way by the taller bushes of thorn and hazel,
the entwined and elastic branches of which, in their recoil, galled and
fretted him, by inflicting smart blows on his face and hands. This was a
hardship he usually little regarded. But, upon the present occasion, it
had the effect, by irritating his temper, of increasing the thirst of
vengeance raging in his bosom.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account