This opened a way through the ranks of my enemies, and, before they could lift a finger, to detain me, I had leaped over the prostrate forms, and was running through the bushes at the top of my speed.
I was quite as much astonished at what I had done as the Swamp Dragoons must have been.
I made the attempt at escape, not because I thought it would be successful, but for the reason that I wished to postpone the moment of my punishment as long as possible.
I had fully expected to be knocked down or tripped up immediately; but, having accomplished this much, I began to hope that, aided by the darkness, I might elude my enemies altogether.
This hope, however, was short-lived. There were Indians and bloodhounds behind me, and in less than a minute both were on my trail.
As soon as the Swamp Dragoons found their tongues, they uttered loud yells of surprise and alarm, and called upon the men about the fire for assistance.
“What’s the matter over thar?” demanded the gruff voice of Luke Redman.
“Mark Coleman!” gasped the leader of the Dragoons. “We ketched him, but he has got away. Thar he is, runnin’ through the cane like a skeered turkey!”
“Turn your dogs loose on him!” shouted Luke. “Come, Injuns, do something fur us!”
There was no need that Luke Redman should call upon Pete and his companions for help. The former, at least, had reasons for wishing to prevent my escape, and as soon as he found out what was going on, he set up a whoop and started in pursuit.
I did not waste time in looking back at him, but my ears told me that he was coming, and that he was gaining on me at every step.
I heard the fierce yelps the hounds gave when they found my trail, and knew they would overtake me if the Indians did not. They might even tear me in pieces before their masters could come up to rescue me; but fearing the rawhide more than the teeth of the dogs, I kept straight ahead, doing some of the best running I ever did in my life, until a heavy hand was laid upon my collar, and I was jerked backward and thrown upon the ground.
“Ugh!” grunted Pete. “White boy good runner—_very_ good runner; but no match for Injun. S’pose I put dogs on him!”
The Swamp Dragoons and the bloodhounds came up at this moment, and I feared that between them both I should be severely dealt with.