"We must seize their leader, and as many as we can get hold of, or they may still attack the Hall," answered Harry. "The sooner we are at them the better, though I fear they will not stand us," cried the sergeant. "Charge, my lads, and get hold of the fellow on the black horse. I saw him fire two shots." And putting spurs to their horses, they dashed on. As they were galloping along, and before they had gone many paces, Harry, to his grief, saw the apparently dead body of the steward lying close by the road-side, where he had, it seemed, fallen when shot. He could not stop to ascertain whether he was dead or alive. The smugglers still held their ground not two hundred yards off. Harry recognised Miles Gaffin, who, by his actions, was evidently endeavouring to induce his followers to advance to the encounter. As the well disciplined little band drew near them, the ruffian's courage gave way. The men on foot rushed off on either side. The horsemen stood a moment longer, and at Gaffin's command fired a volley, but directly afterwards, though superior in numbers, knowing well how ill able they were to resist the charge of the troopers, they wheeled round their horses, and galloped off in the direction of Hurlston. Gaffin was the last to turn. He quickly overtook the rest, and pushing through them on his fleet and powerful horse, soon took the lead. Though vastly superior in a charge, the troopers' horses were ill able to come up with the active steeds of the lightly-armed smugglers. The latter kept well ahead, though Harry urged his companions not to spare the spur. As openings occurred free of trees, first one of the smugglers rode off, then another, others following, some going on one side, some on another, till a small band only held together, led by Gaffin, who had, however, distanced them considerably. Believing, probably, that he was going to desert them, the remainder, swearing loudly at his cowardice, following the example of the first, began to disperse, several throwing themselves from their horses, and making their way through the thick brushwood, where the troopers had little hopes of overtaking them. "Keep the fellow on the black horse in sight," shouted Harry. "He is the man, I doubt not, who murdered the steward. Let some of your men accompany me, and follow him with the rest." The sergeant gave the order as Harry requested, and half the men continued on with Harry towards Downside, while Gaffin was seen to be making by the nearest road for the mill. His object apparently was to take shelter within it, and to sell his life dearly, or he might hope to conceal himself till he could make his escape by some secret passage, or by other means with which he alone was acquainted.