Ian waited,--three hundred yards,--two hundred,--one hundred,--fifty. “Now,” he said, “let them go,” and both riders lashed their horses and the distance began to lengthen out again till it reached three or four hundred yards. Three of their pursuers fell behind altogether, the mounts they had obtained in Alston were not equal to the strain. One was Father Martin, and it would have made Aline’s ears tingle if she had heard the curses heaped upon her and Ian. The other three kept together for a time and then they also began to spread out a little. At length there were forty paces between the first and second, and a couple of hundred yards to the third. It soon became clear, however, that, though they need not fear the third horse, both the other two would ultimately be a match for them, nor would it get dark soon enough for them to escape. Ian kept absolutely cool, but it was a terrible moment. If he were killed, even if Aline did escape, who in the wide world would look after her? When the nearest horse was only about sixty yards behind he said to Aline, “Ride on, I think I can deal with these fellows, but I wish we had more pistols,--two shots will not see us far. Get to Carlisle and find Matthew Musgrave. I doubt not he will smuggle you away over the border; and, if I come not, when Walter Margrove arrives he will somehow provide for you.” “But I won’t leave you,” said Aline. She looked at him so beseechingly, that he knew it was useless to say anything. “Then you must do as I tell you. I am going to stop; you go on thirty or forty paces beyond and then stop also. Be ready to dismount if necessary. You are a good swordswoman, but you know nothing about shooting.” Ian then reined in, turned and pointed his pistol at the leading horse. The man was taken aback by the sudden move, but fired wildly as he rode and the bullet whizzed past Ian’s head. It was only a matter of seconds, but Ian waited to make quite sure and then fired at the horse, which fell and brought its rider with a horrible crash to the ground. The second horse was treated in like manner; but its rider saw what was coming just in time to slacken his pace and leap to the ground as the horse fell. He then fired twice, missing the first time, but grazing Ian’s left side with the second shot. He was a big powerful man and before Ian had time to step back and mount, he was in upon him with his sword. Ian had time to draw, but found that the man was no fool with his weapon. Time was precious, too, for the third horseman, who had drawn rein for a moment, was now advancing and would be upon them immediately. Aline, who had seen this, dismounted and shouted: “Leave him to me and load your pistols”; but before she could reach them, Ian’s sword was through the man’s neck.