Without one word of thanks to his playfellow for the pleasant game he
had enjoyed with him, Tinker bolted for the further hedge, Billy after
him, and Alloway after both. Tinker knew the ground, ran for a post
and rails which filled a gap, and skipped over them a few yards ahead
of his energetic playfellow, who stood gazing after him with a rueful
vindictiveness. Alloway came rushing up, and took no heed of the
disappointed ram, who butted his right leg against the rails with great
promptitude and violence. Alloway emulated his violence not only in
his language, but by cutting him as hard as he could with the whip he
carried, and rushed on after Tinker. Tinker could run at an admirable
pace for a boy of eleven, and he was used to keeping it up longer than
the rustic wind would last. But Alloway was brisker than a farm hand,
or a keeper, and at the end of a couple of fields he began to gain.
Tinker was soon aware of the painful fact, and knew that retribution
was on him. But, though he could not escape, he could postpone; and
his quick mind leaped to the fact that the more done Alloway was, the
less vigorously would he ply his whip; besides, there was a chance that
he might suddenly collapse.
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