rying of huge
bodies; then utter silence again, except that far away a limb cracks.
But only for a moment is the road deserted. It seems as if the shadow of
the great tusker was still upon it when, beyond the bend, a horn, sweet
as a hunting-horn, blows once, twice, ends in a fanfare of treble notes,
and a long, gray motor-car sweeps into view, cutting the sunlight and
the pooled shadow with its twinkling prow. Behind it is another, and
another, and another, until six in all are in sight; and as they flash
past one has a glimpse, on the seats of the landaulets, of a number of
men in long cloaks and helmets; big and little men; fat men and
sharp-featured; elderly men and young men, and particularly of one man,
in the second car from the front, who looks straight ahead of him and is
not interested in the chatter of his companions. He is a stern man,
rather terrible, and his face wears a curious pallor. On the crest of a
wooded slope, a quarter of a mile away, the giant boar sniffs the odor
of the gasolene and delicately wrinkles his nose.

"And this," said the voice, "this convoy of motor-cars, these horns,
almost as gay as the hunting-horns of former days, was, as you have
guessed, The Maimed Man--as you choose to call him--come back to a
hunting-lodge to rest, to slip from his shoulders for a while, if he
could, the sodden cloak he had been wearing for the past three years and
as many months.

"It was dark when they came to the hunting-lodge, a long, two-storied
building of white plaster and timber-work above. The sun had been gone a
while beyond the low hills to the west, and in the open place where the
house stood only a remnant of the red dust of the sunset still floated
in the pellucid air. Here the beeches gave way to solid ranks of pines
and firs, and the evening sweetness of these fell upon the senses like
the touch of cool water upon tired eyes. The headlights of the
motor-cars cut wide arcs of blinding light in the gathering darkness.
One by one the cars stopped before the entrance with throbbing engines
and discharged their loads. The short flight of stairs became for a few
minutes a swaying tableau of gray cloaks. There was a subdued ringing of
spurs. The lamps from within the doorway touched the tips of the helmets
so that they twinkled like little stars.

"The Maimed Man descended slowly and passed between his waiting suite.
The scent of the pines had stirred his heart with memories. He was
thinking of t