My fingers, groping in the dead man’s satchel, brought forth a thick bannock of oatcake and a lump of cheese. I commenced to trot in a southernly direction, intending to follow the south shoulder of Meall na Ceardaich until it rose again to Cam na Ceardaich. If I had not lost my pursuers by then, I could double across the Farrow and lead them through the wilderness of the Durc until nightfall. I ate from the satchel as I went. But I had not gone a mile when I felt unaccountably weak; my breath laboured; I put my left hand on my hip to steady my breathing. My fingers felt sticky. When I brought them before my eyes they were red with blood. I stood like a fool, gazing at my hand. Panic took hold of me. I cast around for a boulder behind which I could hide and defend myself to the last. In a moment I recovered myself by force of will from that mood of despair. I thought of Terry waiting for my return. I unfastened my jacket and pulled up my shirt until I saw my side. It was dark with half-dried blood and a narrow red line of new blood marked where the bullet struck me. I put my fingers in the wound. It was long but not deep, a raking slash in the flesh. When I had soaked my handkerchief in a little burn I washed the wound roughly and made a pad with the handkerchief to lay along my side. I pressed my cap over the pad, under my shirt, and brought my belt up and drew it as tight round the wound as I could bear. The belt was broad enough to keep the bandage in place if it did not slip. I dragged my trousers in until the top button-hole of the spare reached the first braces ‘button. I was not wearing braces. I could run now. I glanced over my shoulder. Six men, spread out in a semicircle, were behind me, less than a mile away. I knew that they were winded after their climb. I believed I could escape. I made more easternly, in the direction of Loch Ericht where there were woods to hide me if I reached them. As I fled I spoke to myself, urging myself on, advising myself of the way, and the obstacles in front of me. I heard myself crying,’ Don’t be afraid, Terry.’ And then I said, ‘Hugh! Hugh! hurry! you must take them away from the cave, you must lead them away from the cave.’ It made a refrain to my running. I did not feel pain or fear or weakness while that aim was in my mind. An occasional shot warned me that I had not shaken off pursuit. At such times my thoughts took a start. I knew I was not fit to race up steep ground. I knew I dared not let myself be herded into a narrow valley where my foes, speeding downhill, would come near enough to pick me off as I laboured up the other side. I swung to the left, following the ridges of Cam na Ceardaich without ever glancing behind. Suddenly a loud ‘Halloo!’ almost beneath me brought me to a standstill. I caught sight of a man in the valley of the Sluie burn. The fleetest of my pursuers, on the right wing of their chase, had outdistanced me. If his plan was to cut me off from Loch Ericht’s refuge-woods and force me into haggy flats where I would find no shelter, it seemed to have succeeded. I was tempted to lie down and wait until I was overtaken. I could defend myself even against half a dozen men. Rage began to swell in me against the men who chased me like a beast before them. Yet I remembered Terry once more. As I looked down at the swift fellow who had outrun me hope revived. He was pelting down the valley at top speed as if he imagined I was right before him. I could neither see nor hear anything of his companions. It seemed to me that he had outdistanced them and broken their cordon by his haste. It was my only chance. I was standing on the lip of a little corrie which fell to the Sluie. Once I reached that burn there was nothing but level moor between me and Loch Ericht. I bolted into the shallow shelter of the corrie. Half a mile down it began to grow narrow; the stream which drained it had gouged out a ravine. I was barely into the bed of the stream when shouts broke forth above me on the hill-top. I crouched as low as I could while a figure on the skyline shouted as if to the man below and waved his arm eastward. Immediately he vanished I toiled down the gorge. Sometimes I slipped and fell feet foremost over slippery rocks; I plunged down gravel slides which fell with me, filling my boots with sand and stones. A rock struck my side and I lay gasping with agony. Warm blood trickled down my side. Still I kept on. In a short time my enemies must find that I was not before them. They had followed me too far to let me hope that they would abandon the chase because I had given them the slip. The ravine spread into a dell. I scampered across it to reach the Sluie and climb the opposite bank. Startled cries told me that I was seen. I fled without attempting to hide, towards Loch Ericht. I was barely a quarter of a mile in front of my foremost pursuers when I crossed the deer-fence into the wood. I took my rifle in my hand as I clambered over the fence. I steadied myself to aim at the leading man. I may have hit him. He flung himself down with a savage cry, and I, with a yell of exultation and mockery more savage than his, burst into the wood whose thickets no enemy would dare to thread for fear of ambush.