‘Come on, Rusty!’ I muttered, and we at once made off as quietly as we could. Unluckily for us, while the stout man was poking his head among the branches, puffing and blowing as he did so like a broken-winded horse, the boy had walked on down the path, and next moment his shrill voice rang out: ‘I say, father, here are two beastly squirrels stealing nuts. Keep an eye on ’em while I get my gun.’ He was off across the grass at a pace one would not have credited him with, and we, aware that any attempt at further concealment was useless, went off also at top speed. What we both dreaded was the long open space at the bottom of the kitchen-garden wall, where it abutted on the park. However, there was no shirking it. If we stayed where we were we would be caught like rats in a trap. It was Rusty who made the jump first out of the bushes and down the sunk fence, and as I followed him I heard the fat man shouting hoarsely: ‘Quick, they’re running away!’ How we scuttled! Even a terrier would have had his work cut out to catch us. There was no cover at all until we reached the far end of the long line of wall, and we strained every nerve to gain the hedge which ran at right angles from the end of it, separating the park from the road. The distance was not much more than seventy yards, but it seemed like a mile as we tore along. Fresh shouts behind us spurred us to almost super-squirrel efforts. Hardly five yards were left when suddenly—bang, and a sound like hail pattering on the ground behind us. Next second, and with simultaneous bounds we were in the hedge, but before we could get through it and into shelter on the far side the sound of another shot rang through the calm autumn air, and this time with better aim. Leaves flew in the hedge, and a sharp blow on the head sent me staggering, nearly causing me to lose my foothold. ‘Come on, Scud. We must cross the road,’ called Rusty at that moment; and with a fine jump he was across the ditch and out on the white, dusty surface. Recovering myself, I followed, and found that, though my head was singing, I could still run as well as ever. Luckily there was not a soul in sight, so we crossed the road in safety, plunged through the opposite hedge, and found ourselves in a plantation of young larches about twenty feet high. Through these we went as hard as ever we could pelt, until, quite exhausted, we came to rest somewhere in the thickest depths, and, climbing into one of the largest trees, lay panting and tired out on an upper bough. For a minute neither of us could move; then suddenly Rusty, glancing at me, exclaimed: ‘Why, Scud, you’re hurt!’ ‘Yes, something hit me,’ I answered faintly.