"Hold!" it roared. "Shoot not! Take him alive! It is young Shelton—Harry's son."
And immediately after a shrill whistle sounded several times, and was again taken up and repeated farther off. The whistle, it appeared, was John Amend-All's battle trumpet, by which he published his directions.
"Ah, foul fortune!" cried Dick. "We are undone. Swiftly, Jack, come swiftly!"
And the pair turned and ran back through the open pine clump that covered the summit of the hill.
CHAPTER VI.
TO THE DAY'S END
It was, indeed, high time for them to run. On every side the company of the Black Arrow was making for the hill. Some, being better runners, or having open ground to run upon, had far outstripped the others, and were already close upon the goal; some, following valleys, had spread out to right and left, and outflanked the lads on either side.
Dick plunged into the nearest cover. It was a tall grove of oaks, firm under foot and clear of underbrush, and as it lay down hill, they made good speed. There followed next a piece of open, which Dick avoided, holding to his left. Two minutes after, and the same
