The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 75: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

73 THE CHILD OF WATERLOO, indeed, been nearly fatal to the fugitive. On they went and were soon on the corfines of the village. The houses were all quiet; not a light streamed from any of the windows—not a soul could be seen, not a sound heard, save such as proceeded from them- selves. Into the village the stranger dashed, and he seemed de- termined to make a desperate effort to shake off his pursuer, and rushed over the hard road with increased speed. But here he was followed by a like struggle on the part of the hostler to overtake him; and this effort was, therefore, only so much in- crease of exertion as must materially diminish their mutual strength, without gaining any advantage. The hostler could hear his enemy’s breathing—it was hard and rapid; and he could not, he thought, hold out much longer. But Jem became aware, too, that he was much distressed bv his unwonted exertion; and, but for the excitement and the hope that drove him onward, he could scarce have held out so long in the desperate struggle as he had done. To the left of the village was a wood, that ran some distance at the back of the village church; part lay in a hollow, and part lay by a hill-side. The stranger turned to the left, and made toward the wood. Here another struggle commenced, and Jem made his utmost speed to overtake the murderer, thinking that if he got into the covers he would have every probability of escape. Jem’s fears were realized; the man did gain the wood, and rushed into it as though he felt himself somewhat secure. He bounded on through the dark walks, heed- less of the briers that grew across the path, which came with force against the hostler, who came after him with a stead pace; and the rapid strides they both took were timed, and it seemed as though it were but one man, and one step that bounded through the wood. The wood was dark, and the boughs were so thick and tangled that the moon’s rays could ill venetrate, and Jem could only see the dark, moving body of the man who yet remained but a few paces in advance. The cover and shelter the woods afforded seemed but ill-calcu- lated to be seized upon by the fugitive, for his pursuer was 80 close on his track, that any spot or brake he could have rushed into would have been no hiding-place, for the hostler was close behind him, and what gave way to one could be entered by the other. Hecould not stop—he could not turn; to rush in among the tall trees at full speed might be successful, but it might also be unsuccessful, and there was the chance. To turn unsuccess- fully was to give up: and if he turfied, at the speed he was run- ning, among the trees, he knew not how soon he might run against one of the huge trunks, and thus prostrate himself. These considerations no doubt, actuated the man to keep the open cleared paths, that gave no obstruction to his flight. What- ever stooped his pursuer, he well knew would stop him first, save some slight fall, or slip of the foot, and such accidents were not to be reckoned upon as means of escape. They now emerged from the deepest and most gloomy part of the wood toa part where the moon’s rays penetrated, and the comicbooks. com