On the other hand, if he
followed too closely they might hear the sound of his horse's feet, or,
turning in the saddle, might see his figure outlined against the sky. In
that case the game was up. It would be a matter of flight, or an
encounter in which, against such odds, he could look for nothing but
capture or death. And in either event, his plans for the breaking up
of the band would come to nothing.
There was but one alternative. He must follow on foot.
He was in superb condition and could do it easily. Running was his game.
He had taken the measure of the fleetest runners in the country, and had,
by so doing, won the right to represent America in the Olympic Games. And
when he had carried off the honors in the Marathon race over the crack
flyers of all the world, he had made the distance of twenty-six miles, up
hill and down, in a trifle over two hours and thirty minutes, or a
sustained rate of more than ten miles an hour. To be sure, he was then
trained to the hour and at the top of his form. But even now, although
not strictly in training, his outdoor life and clean living had kept him
in fine fettle, and he was fit to "run for a man's life.
Pages:
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231