full of wonder.

In fact, naught would do but they went there together the morning after,
and there--in the chill light of a January day, Millicent pointed out
where she stood when the vision come to her and presently the very tree
under which she had returned to life.

But John, being skilled in all woodland craft, took a pretty close look
round and soon smelled out signs and wonders hid from common sight. He'd
been much pleased with the tale at first, for though sorrowful that his
girl had suffered so much, he hadn't got enough mind himself to measure
the agony she'd been through; and, whether or no, since the Hound brought
good luck, he counted on some bright outcome for Millicent presently, if
it was only that her mother should be saved alive. But when he got to his
woodcraft, John Meadows weren't so pleased by any means, because he found
another story told. Where the girl had fainted and dropped in the water on
seeing the Hound was clear to mark; but more than that John discovered,
for all round about was the slot of a big dog with a great pad and claws;
and, as if that weren't enough, the keeper found something else also.

He stared then and stood back and scratched the hair on his nape.

"Beggar my shoes!" said John. "This weren't no devil-dog, but a living
creature! The Hound be a spirit and don't leave no mark where he runs; but
the dog that made these tracks weighs a hundred and fifty pound if he
weighs an ounce; and look you here. What be this?"

Well, Millicent looked and there weren't no shadow of doubt as to what her
father had found, for pressed in the mire and gravel at river edge was the
prints of a tidy large boot.

William Parsloe came along at the moment; but he knew nought, though he
put two and two together very clever.

"'Tis like this," he said; "you ran into the poachers, Millicent, though
what the blackguards was up to with a hugeous dog I couldn't tell you. And
now I'll lay my life that what I saw back along was the same creature and
he whipped away and warned his masters."

"But me?" asked the girl. "Why for if I fainted and fell into the river,
didn't I drown there for you or father to find next day?"

"Yes," added John. "How came that to be, Bill?"

"I see it so clear as need be," explained Parsloe, who had a quick mind.
"You fell in the water and the dog gave tongue. The blackguards came along
and, not wishful to add murder to their crimes, haled you out. Then they
carried you a