Sam heard the cocking of a pistol, but did not pause for the report.
He
scrambled over rock and stone, through bush and briar; rolled down
banks like a hedgehog; scrambled up others like a catamount. In every
direction he heard some one or other of the gang hemming him in. At
length he reached the rocky ridge along the river; one of the red-caps
was hard behind him. A steep rock like a wall rose directly in his way;
it seemed to cut off all retreat, when he espied the strong cord-like
branch of a grape-vine reaching half way down it. He sprang at it with
the force of a desperate man, seized it with both hands, and being
young and agile, succeeded in swinging himself to the summit of the
cliff. Here he stood in full relief against the sky, when the red-cap
cocked his pistol and fired. The ball whistled by Sam's head. With the
lucky thought of a man in an emergency, he uttered a yell, fell to the
ground, and detached at the same time a fragment of the rock, which
tumbled with a loud splash into the river.
"I've done his business," said the red-cap, to one or two of his
comrades as they arrived panting. "He'll tell no tales, except to the
fishes in the river."
His pursuers now turned off to meet their companions. Sam sliding
silently down the surface of the rock, let himself quietly into his
skiff, cast loose the fastening, and abandoned himself to the rapid
current, which in that place runs like a mill-stream, and soon swept
him off from the neighborhood.
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