For a quarter of an hour she went on at a slapping pace,
clearing the bushes with bound after bound, flying over the fallen logs,
pausing neither for brook nor ravine. The baying of the hounds grew
fainter behind.

After running at high speed perhaps half a mile farther, it occurred to
her that it would be safe now to turn to the west, and, by a wide
circuit, seek her fawn. But at the moment she heard a sound that chilled
her heart. It was the cry of a hound to the west of her. There was
nothing to do but to keep on, and on she went, with the noise of the
pack behind her.

In five minutes more she had passed into a hillside clearing. She heard
a tinkle of bells. Below her, down the mountain slope, were other
clearings broken by patches of woods. A mile or two down lay the valley
and the farmhouses. That way also her enemies were. Not a merciful heart
in all that lovely valley. She hesitated; it was only for an instant.

She must cross the Slide Brook valley, if possible, and gain the
mountain opposite. She bounded on; she stopped. What was that? From the
valley ahead came the cry of a searching hound. Every way was closed but
one, and that led straight down the mountain to the cluster of houses.
The hunted doe went down "the open," clearing the fences, flying along
the stony path.

As she approached Slide Brook, she saw a boy standing by a tree with a
raised rifle. The dogs were not in sight, but she could hear them coming
down the hill. There was no time for hesitation. With a tremendous burst
of speed she cleared the stream, and as she touched the bank heard the
"ping" of a rifle bullet in the air above her. The cruel sound gave
wings to the poor thing.

In a moment more she leaped into the travelled road. Women and children
ran to the doors and windows; men snatched their rifles. There were
twenty people who were just going to shoot her, when the doe leaped the
road fence, and went away across a marsh toward the foothills.

By this time the dogs, panting and lolling out their tongues, came
swinging along, keeping the trail, like stupids, and consequently
losing ground when the deer doubled. But when the doe had got into the
timber, she heard the savage brutes howling across the meadow. (It is
well enough, perhaps, to say that nobody offered to shoot the dogs.)

The courage of the panting fugitive was not gone, but the fearful pace
at which she had been going told on her. Her legs trembled, and her
heart beat