Anxiety now took me in a strong grip. Our mistaken chase had caused us to come very fast, and since we saw nothing of Chudleigh, I feared lest we had passed him in some manner. It therefore cheered me much, a half hour later, when I saw a stout man, whom I took to be a farmer, jogging comfortably toward us on a stout nag as comfortable-looking as himself. He was not like the other, suspicious and afraid, and I was glad of it, for I said to myself that here was a man of steady habit and intelligence, a man who would tell us the truth and tell it clearly. He came on in most peaceable and assuring fashion, as if not a soldier were within a thousand miles of him. I hailed him, and he replied with a pleasant salutation. “Have you met a man riding southward?” I said. “What kind of a man?” he asked. “A large man in citizen’s dress,” I replied. “Young, or old?” “Young--twenty-six or twenty-eight.” “Anything else special about him?” “Dark hair and eyes and dark complexion; his horse probably very tired.” “What do you want with this man?” he asked, stroking a red whisker with a contemplative hand. “He is an escaped prisoner,” I replied, “and it is of the greatest importance that we recapture him.” “Did you say he was rather young? Looked like he might be six and twenty or eight and twenty?” he asked. “Yes, that is he,” I said eagerly. “Tall, rather large?” “The very man.” “Dark hair and eyes and dark complexion?” “Exactly! Exactly!” “His horse very tired?” “Our man beyond a doubt! Which way did he go?” “Gentlemen, I never saw or heard of such a man,” he replied gravely, laying switch to his horse and riding on. We resumed our journey, vexation keeping us silent for some time. “Our second mistake,” said Whitestone at length. As I did not answer, he added: “But the third time means luck.” “I doubt it,” I replied. My disbelief in signs and omens was confirmed by the failure of my intuition. CHAPTER XV. THE TAKING OF CHUDLEIGH. We were forced to ride with some slowness owing to the blown condition of our horses, and anxiety began to gnaw me to the marrow. We had come so fast that the time to overtake Chudleigh, if in truth we had not passed him already, had arrived. In such calculations I was interrupted by the sight of a loose horse in the road, saddled and bridled, but riderless. He was in a lather, like ours, and I guessed at once that this was the horse Chudleigh had taken. In some manner--perhaps he had seen us, though unseen himself--he had learned that he was pursued hotly, and, fearing to be overtaken, had abandoned his horse and taken to the woods and fields. Such at least was my guess.