By slow and sure degrees he gained on the fugitives, and as he could
now catch some sound of the rattling of the carriage-wheels, they must
also hear his horse's footfall. Were they trying to get away from him?
On the contrary, the carriage stopped altogether.
That was Harry Trelyon's decision. For some time back he had been
listening attentively. At length he said, "Don't you hear some one
riding back there?"
"Yes, I do," said Wenna, beginning to tremble.
"I suppose it is Mr. Roscorla coming after us," the young man said
coolly. "Now I think it would be a shame to drag the old gentleman
halfway down to Plymouth. He must have had a good spell already. Shall
I stop and persuade him to go back home to bed?"
"Oh no," said Mabyn, who was all for getting on at any risk.
"Oh no," Wenna said, fearing the result of an encounter between the
two men.
"I must stop," Trelyon said. "It's such precious hard lines on him. I
shall easily persuade him that he would be better at home."
So he pulled up the horses, and quietly waited by the roadside for a
few minutes. The unknown rider drew nearer and more near.
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