To say nothing of the indignity of being captured by a yelling mob, it would be infinitely more dangerous than a voluntary submission to some recognised authority; for this reason, Digby, with his two attendants, tried to escape, and, as they were riding three excellent horses, they had great hopes of succeeding in doing so. Nor were these hopes altogether groundless; for, when they began to gallop, they soon widened the distance between themselves and their pursuers; but they observed that the peasants and wayfarers whom they passed turned round to stare at them, which showed that their route would be pointed out to the "hue-and-cry." As Father Gerard says, "it was not possible for them to pass or go unknown, especially Sir Everard Digby, being so noted a man for his stature and personage, and withal so well appointed as he was."[326] He thought it wisest, therefore, to go into a large wood, and to hide there until the "hue-and-cry" should have passed. In this fortune favoured them, for, on turning along a bye-path from the main track in the wood, they saw a dry pit, and down into this they rode. [326] _Narrative of the G. P._, p. 110. They had not been very long concealed in it when they heard the distant thud of galloping horses, and every now and then the shouting of their riders. Nearer and nearer came the sounds, and, just as they grew loudest, to his great delight Digby heard them beginning to decrease in force, which showed that the galloping mob had passed his retreat and was going on an objectless errand. Presently the sounds ceased altogether, and Sir Everard and his two companions were on the point of emerging from their ambush, when they fancied they heard the footsteps of two horses proceeding at a walk. A voice confirmed them in this opinion. Once more there was silence, and once again there were sounds of horses' feet and men's voices. Suddenly a cry of "Here he is; here he is!"[327] showed that they were discovered. The baffled hunters had turned back to try to trace the hoof-marks of the fugitives' horses on either side of the rough roadway through the wood, and the wet, muddy weather had enabled them to succeed in this attempt. In that moment of extreme peril, Sir Everard showed plenty of courage. "Here he is, indeed!" said he; "what then?" [327] _Narrative of the G. P._, p. 111. Looking up, he saw about ten or twelve horsemen standing about the entrance to the pit; and believing that the main body of the "hue-and-cry" were scattered about the wood searching in different directions, he hoped to be able to force his way through the small group which he saw above; accordingly he "advanced his horse in the manner of curvetting (which he was expert in) and thought to have borne them over, and so to break from them."