Streaked with
dust they both were, to be sure. There had been a mist in the low-lying
country through which they had come, and the flying dust of the higher,
drier parts of the road had caked on their faces. But they were not the
faces of officers.
Fred thought he heard a shout as they passed under the culvert. But
shouts were not enough to check them. What they both feared was a
volley. And that, as they passed out and beyond the menace of the
culvert, did not come.
"Look back! See if they are looking after us!" cried Boris.
"No!" Fred shouted in his ear, for now the rush of the wind made it
difficult for them to hear anything. "The light is on us now--they might
see too plainly. And, if we were officers going as fast as this, there
would be no reason for us to look back--Oh! Look out!"
They had come to the turn. So great was their speed that they seemed to
reach it before they were well out from the shadow of the culvert, yet
they had traveled two hundred yards or more. There was nothing really to
frighten Fred as he cried out unless it was the sudden imminence of the
turn, which had seemed much further away when they had first seen it.
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