THE SMUGGLER. 391 



country people he can collect, sweep it down, while the rest of 

 the mounted men advance, on a line, on either side. Stay, 

 I will write;'' arid tearing a leaf out of his pocket-book, he 

 put down his orders in pencil. 



The man had just galloped away, when the young farmer, 

 William Harris, shouted, "There they go, there they go I 

 After them! after them! Tally hoi" and instantly set spurs 

 to his horse. All the rest but Layton followed at full speed; 

 but he paused, and, directing his eyes along the edge of the 

 wood, clearly saw, at the distance of somewhat more than 

 half a mile, three men, who seemed to have issued forth from 

 amongst the trees, running across the fields as fast as they 

 could go. It would seem that they had not been aware of the 

 numbers collected to intercept them, till they had advanced 

 too far to retreat ; but they had got a good start ; the country 

 was difficult for any but well- trained horses; and darting on, 

 they took their way towards Goudhurst, passing within a 

 hundred yards of the spot where the victim of their horrid 

 barbarity lay upon the bed of death. 



Taking the narrow paths, leaping the stiles and gates, they 

 at first seemed to gain upon the mass of peasantry who fol- 

 lowed them, though their pursuers were on horseback and they 

 on foot. But, well knowing the country, the farmers spread 

 out along the small bridle-roads ; and, while the better 

 mounted horsemen followed direct across the fields, the others 

 prepared to cut off the ruffians on the right and left. Gra- 

 dually a semicircle, enclosing them within its horns, was thus 

 formed ; and all chance of escape by flight was thus cut off. 



In this dilemma the three miscreants made straight towards 

 a farm-house at which they occasionally received hospitality 

 in their lawless expeditions, and which bears the name of 

 "Smuggler Farm" to this day; but they knew not that all 

 hearts had been raised against them by their late atrocities, 

 and that the very tenant of the farm himself was now one of 

 the foremost in pursuit. Rushing in, then, with no farther 

 ceremony than casting the door open, they locked and barred 

 it, just as some of the peasantry were closing in upon them; 

 and then, hurrying to the kitchen, where the farmer's wife, 

 his sister, and a servant was collected, Ned Ramley, who was 

 the first, exclaimed, "Have you no hide, good dame?" 



"Hide!'' replied the stout farmer's wife, eyeing him ask- 



