which it was
encircled; the body, too, was much stouter than when I had known it in
life.

"I marked this in a moment; and then resolved to lay hold of the thing,
whatever it might be. I dashed up the bank, and the earth which had been
thrown on the side giving under my feet, I fell forward up the bank on
my hands, recovering myself instantly. I gained the road, and stood in
the exact spot where the group had been, but which was now vacant, there
was not the trace of anything; it was impossible for them to go on, the
road stopped at a precipice about twenty yards further on, and it was
impossible to turn and go back in a second. All this flashed through my
mind, and I then ran along the road for about 100 yards, along which
they had come, until I had to stop for want of breath, but there was no
trace of anything, and not a sound to be heard. I then returned home,
where I found my dogs, who, on all other occasions my most faithful
companions, had not come with me along the road.

"Next morning I went up to D., who belonged to the same regiment as B.,
and gradually induced him to talk of him. I said, 'How very stout he had
become lately, and what possessed him to allow his beard to grow with
that horrid fringe?' D. replied, 'Yes, he became very bloated before his
death. You know he led a very fast life, and while on the sick list he
allowed the fringe to grow, in spite of all that we could say to him,
and I believe he was buried with it.' I asked him where he got the pony
I had seen, describing it minutely. 'Why,' said D., 'how do you know
anything about all this? You hadn't seen B. for two or three years, and
the pony you never saw. He bought him at Peshawur, and killed him one
day riding in his reckless fashion down the hill to Trete.' I then told
him what I had seen the night before.

"Once, when the galloping sound was very distinct, I rushed to the door
of my house. There I found my Hindoo bearer, standing with a tattie in
his hand. I asked him what he was there for. He said that there came a
sound of riding down the hill, and 'passed him like a typhoon,' and went
round the corner of the house, and he was determined to waylay it,
whatever it was."

In commenting on the case, Mr. Stead remarks, "That such a story as
this, gravely told by a British General in the present day, helps us to
understand how our ancestors came to believe in the wonderful story of
Herne the Hunter." I do not know about Herne the Hunter,