But there he was; and gathering up his
legs from the fall as quick as lightning he headed them off from the
house and up the road. There was no violence. So far as one could
tell from the clouds of dust, he never hurt 'em once, but through the
dust we could see the Genoese staring as he nursed the pair up the
road straight into their arms. The queer part of it," wound up
Billy, reflectively, "was that, after the first moment, Sir John had
never the chance of a shot. You may doubt me, gentlemen, but Sir
John is a shot in a thousand, and, what with the dust and the
confusion, there was never a chance without risk to human life.
The Genoese giving back, in less than half a minute the road was
clear."
"But what happened?" asked my uncle.
"Well, sir, this here Corsica being an island, it follows that they
must have stopped somewhere. But where there's no telling."
"You never saw them again."
"Never," said Billy, solemnly; and, having asked and received
permission to light his pipe, resumed the tale.
"There being now no reason to loiter in Calenzana, we left the town
next morning and rode along the hill tracks to Muro, when again we
struck the high road running northward to the coast.
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