He was soon on the road, but even now, as he tried to trot, he could hear the people coming closer. For another hour and then another he pushed on, but they were gaining ground. The wolf had appeared again, just out of range of his musket. By the time the sun was beginning to set, he had gone as far as he could. He lay upon the ground taking in great lungs full of air, wincing with every breath. Awaiting his fate, he had lost all hope of escape. They were all around him now shouting ALDERMAN ... ALDERMAN ... ALDERMAN!
Suddenly the voices stopped, all was quiet and then Alderman heard it. Hoping against hope it was true, but there could be no mistakes. It was the sound of a coach, with four horses running at a cantor just inside the woods, coming from Plymouth and going to Boston, no doubt
