"
"Pretty nearly over the other side."
"I don't see him."
"They will catch him as he gets out."
"I believe he has sunk."
"He never could keep under all this time."
"One of the bullets must have hit him."
Then a voice in the crowd shouted, "There's his head, just in the middle
of the river," and a stone splashed in the stream. It was followed by a
volley of other stones, and several musket shots in the same direction.
Walter, having now got his breath, sank his head quietly below the water
and swam on again, keeping close under the bank. Whenever he came up for
air, he listened for a moment. Shots were still being fired below him,
and he knew that the attention of all upon the shores was still directed
towards the centre of the stream, and that there was but small chance of
anyone leaning over to gaze down into the water close to their feet.
His hopes rose, as every minute placed him further from his pursuers. He
could no longer hear voices above him when he rose, but he swam on, for
upwards of a mile, and struggled up the bank well beyond the walls of the
town. He lay down a few minutes to rest himself, walked half a mile along
the bank, and then, entering the river again, swam across, for the road
he was to follow was on the south side of it.
Pages:
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323