"The party of doomed men were hurried through the narrow streets."
"Agreed!" he said. "And to ensure that both shall do their best, let the winner have the promise of his life."
Feversham received this proposal with by no means a good grace, for to spare a rebel hurt him to the soul. But the delightful prospect of seeing two men racing for their lives, and of being able, after all, to shoot the loser, at length reconciled him to the scheme. He gave his orders, and the two prisoners were led out of the line.
Out upon the moor, about a quarter of a mile away, stood a solitary tree. This was selected as the starting-point. A double line of troopers was drawn up, stretching from the tree to the spot where the general was stationed, leaving a space between them like a racecourse, some yards wide. At the end of the course Feversham and the Major sat opposite each other. Whichever of the two competitors should pass between them first would be rewarded with his life and liberty.
And what were the sensations of the pair while these preparations were in progress?
David Dare, standing before the muskets of the firing party, had heard the strange proposal with a sudden thrill of hope, so keen that it was almost like a pain. Then for a moment his heart fell again. He knew his own speed of foot, but he knew also that against a fleet horse urged by a skilful rider spurring for dear life his chance was likely to be small. Still there was hope again, and he could do his best. More he could not do, though success meant life—and life with Mary Seldon. At the last thought his eyes glistened, and he moved up the course between his guards with the keenness of a hound in leash.
In the meantime a trooper had dismounted, and Quixarvyn, armed with whip and spurs, having taken his place in the saddle, the horse was led by a couple of soldiers to the starting-point. Unlike his rival, Quixarvyn's face showed no elation. For one moment, on hearing the proposal, a gleam had come into his eyes; but now he rode with down-bent head, as if lost in thought. A sentence seemed to be constantly running in his head—the sentence used by Dare in their quarrel in the church, "You could not make her happy, and I could." He muttered the words over twenty times. It was not until the tree was reached, and the horse was halted with his head towards the spot where Feversharn, discernible far off
