ave fellow! I know you mean it. But now to our work; and
let us be silent. He may not have gone far, and's still skulking in
this tract of timber. If so, he stands a chance to hear us. Speak only
in a whisper."

Thus instructed, Jupe makes a gesture to signify compliance; Clancy
turning his attention to the hound.

By this, Brasfort is all eagerness, as can be told by the quick
vibration of his tail, and spasmodic action of the body. A sound also
proceeds from his lips, an attempt at baying; which, but for the
confining muzzle would make the forest echoes ring around. Stopped by
this his note can be heard only a short distance off, not far enough for
them to have any fear. If they but get so near the man they are in
chase of, they will surely overtake him.

In confidence the trackers keep on; but obstructed by the close standing
trunks, with thick underwood between, they make but slow progress. They
are more than an hour in getting across the timbered tract; a distance
that should not have taken quarter the time.

At length, arriving on its edge, they make stop; Clancy drawing back the
dog. Looking across the plain he sees that, which tells him the
instinct of the animal will be no longer needed--at least for a time.

The moon, shining upon the meadow grass, shows a list differently
shaded; where the tall culms have been bent down and crushed by the hoof
of some heavy quadruped, that has made its way amidst them. And
recently too, as Clancy, skilled in tracking, can tell; knowing, also,
it is the track of Dick Darke's horse.

"You see it?" he says, pointing to the lighter shaded line. "That's the
assassin's trail. He's gone out here, and straight across the bottom.
He's made for the bluff yonder. From this he's been putting his animal
to speed; gone in a gallop, as the stretch between the tracks show. He
may go that way, or any other, 'twill make no difference in the end. He
fancies himself clever, but for all his cleverness he'll not escape me
now."

"I hope not, Masser Charle; an' don't think he will; don't see how he
can."

"He can't."

For some time Clancy is silent, apparently absorbed in serious
reflection. At length, he says to his follower:--

"Jupe, my boy, in your time you have suffered much yourself, and should
know something of what it is to feel vengeful. But not a vengeance like
mine. That you can't understand, and perhaps may think me cruel."

"You, Masser Charle!"

"I d