A Moorland Legend. 109 



Self-interest, if no other motive existed, would therefore 

 prompt these people to become amateur man-hunters, 

 Hence, within a few moments of the gun-fire which gave the 

 alarm, Kingsford was thrown into a state of intense excite- 

 ment. Boys were rushing hither and thither to bring in 

 with all haste the rough, wiry little Quickmoor ponies from 

 the pastures and outhouses ; women assembled in the single 

 thoroughfare of the village, questioning and magnifying, as 

 they gathered or imparted intelligence ; the grand entrance 

 to the huge prison was surrounded by eager enquirers bent 

 upon cross-examining any of the officials who might issue 

 forth. 



Within an incredibly short space of time the warders were 

 scouring the moors, north, south, east, and west, under 

 orders to bring in the runaways dead or alive. Every 

 gully, every ravine, every boulder or tor likely to afford 

 hiding, was ransacked with prompt completeness; every 

 shepherd's hut on the hills, and every lonely vehicle on the 

 highway, arriving from or passing down into the outer world 

 was overhauled. The search was rendered the more arduous 

 by the dense fog which wrapped everything in hoary, chilling 

 gloom. 



At the Kingsford Arms, the one hotel in the place, the 

 true cause of the alarm was soon ascertained. The convicts 

 had been marched out as usual to the occupations of the 

 day — some working at the buildings which were being per- 

 petually added to the main establishment, others at reclaiming 

 the adjacent moorland for agricultural purposes. The 

 warders were posted in their proper strength at the ordinary 

 posts, and the silent labour of the convicts was proceeding 

 when, as so often happens in those strange regions, a sudden 

 mist arose, to develop swiftly into an impenetrable fog. 

 This was the opportunity for which the discontented and 



