Page:Rookwood vol 1.djvu/145

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ROOKWOOD.
125

hope for, should he attempt to scale the rock. The rock was sheer—the pool was deep—yet still he hurried on. He reached the muddy embankment—he mounted its sides—he seemed to hesitate. The keepers were now within a hundred yards—both guns were discharged—and sudden as the reports, with a dead, splashless plunge, like a diving otter, the fugitive dropped into the water.

The pursuers were at the brink. They gazed at the pool. A few bubbles floated upon its surface, and burst. The water was slightly discoloured with sand. No ruddier stain crimsoned the tide—no figure rested on the naked rock—no hand clung to the motionless tree.

"Devil take the rascal," growled one; "I hope he harnt escaped us, after all."

"No—no, he's fast enough, never fear," rejoined the other; "sticking like an eel at the bottom o' the pond; and damn him he deserves it, for he's slip'd out of our fingers, eel fashion,