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           Ijumpedthedykeandfollowedit,andafterafewhundredyards—assoonasitwasoutofsightofthehighway—thegrassstoppedanditbecameaveryrespectableroad,whichwasevidentlykeptwithsomecare.Clearlyitrantoahouse,andIbegantothinkofdoingthesame.Hithertomyluckhadheld,anditmightbethatmybestchancewouldbefoundinthisremotedwelling.Anyhowthereweretreesthere,andthatmeantcover.

           Ididnotfollowtheroad,buttheburnsidewhichflankeditontheright,wherethebrackengrewdeepandthehighbanksmadeatolerablescreen.ItwaswellIdidso,fornosoonerhadIgainedthehollowthan,lookingback,IsawthepursuittoppingtheridgefromwhichIhaddescended.

           AfterthatIdidnotlookback;Ihadnotime.Iranuptheburnside,crawlingovertheopenplaces,andforalargepartwadingintheshallowstream.Ifoundadesertedcottagewitharowofphantompeat-stacksandanovergrowngarden.ThenIwasamongyounghay,andverysoonhadcometotheedgeofaplantationofwind-blownfirs.FromthereIsawthechimneysofthehousesmokingafewhundredyardstomyleft.Iforsooktheburnside,crossedanotherdyke,andalmostbeforeIknewwasonaroughlawn.AglancebacktoldmethatIwaswelloutofsightofthepursuit,whichhadnotyetpassedthefirstliftofthemoor.

           Thelawnwasaveryroughplace,cutwithascytheinsteadofamower,andplantedwithbedsofscrubbyrhododendrons.Abraceofblack-game,whicharenotusuallygardenbirds,roseatmyapproach.