For this reason, Redcoat did not dare backtrack very much, but confined his running to long gradual turns. Short sharp cuts he soon found were very costly.
For hours the desperate relentless grilling went on. There was no chance to stop for a few minutes to get one's breath or courage back. Several times Redcoat tried the roadway, but he always found it well guarded. He only dared to reconnoitre it at the open spots for fear he would run directly into a hunter. Yet, not withstanding his caution, he finally did encounter a hunter. He ran full upon one of the sentries who had been posted outside the roadway upon a commanding hilltop. It was only by the most desperate running and the wildest jumping and all sorts of jack rabbit stunts that Redcoat saved his brush, but even so the man fired twice. Twice the terrible thunder stick spoke to Redcoat in that awful voice, and each time the small pellets fell like hail about him. The second time he felt a sharp daggerlike pain in his shoulder and discovered to his great consternation that he
