himself called out in an entirely changed voice: "Oh, this is
damnable! This is not to be borne!"

MacIan followed his eye along the sand-hills. He saw what looked
like the momentary and waving figure of the nigger minstrel, and
then he saw a heavy running policeman take the turn of the
sand-hill with the smooth solemnity of a railway train.



XIII. THE GARDEN OF PEACE

Up to this instant Evan MacIan had really understood nothing; but
when he saw the policeman he saw everything. He saw his enemies,
all the powers and princes of the earth. He suddenly altered from
a staring statue to a leaping man of the mountains.

"We must break away from him here," he cried, briefly, and went
like a whirlwind over the sand ridge in a straight line and at a
particular angle. When the policeman had finished his admirable
railway curve, he found a wall of failing sand between him and
the pursued. By the time he had scaled it thrice, slid down
twice, and crested it in the third effort, the two flying figures
were far in front. They found the sand harder farther on; it
began to be crusted with scraps of turf and in a few moments they
were flying easily over an open common of rank sea-grass. They
had no easy business, however; for the bottle which they had so
innocently sent into the chief gate of Thanet had called to life
the police of half a county on their trail. From every side
across the grey-green common figures could be seen running and