might do
something to defend himself. And the great stag-hound will help him.

With hope half resuscitated, he makes an effort to extricate the arm,
heaving his shoulder upward. In vain.--It is held as in a vice, or the
clasp of a giant. There is _no_ alternative--he must submit to his
fate. And such a fate! Once more he will see the sole enemy of his
life, his mother's murderer, standing triumphant over him; will hear his
taunting speeches--almost a repetition of the scene under the cypress!
And to think that in all his encounters with this man, he has been
unsuccessful; too late--ever too late! The thought is of itself a
torture.

Strange the slowness with which Darke draws nigh! Can he still be in
dread of the unearthly? No, or he would not be there. It may be that
sure of his victim, he but delays the last blow, scheming some new
horror before he strike it?

The tramp of the horse tells him to be going at a walk; unsteady too, as
if his rider were not certain about the way, but seeking it. Can this
be so? Has he not yet seen the head and hound? The moon must be on his
back, since it is behind Clancy's own. It may be that Brasfort--a new
figure in the oft changing tableau--stays his advance. Possibly the
unexplained presence of the animal has given him a surprise, and hence
he approaches with caution?

All at once, the hoof-stroke ceases to be heard, and stillness reigns
around. _No_ sound save that made by the claws of the dog, that
continues its task with unabated assiduity--not yet having taken any
notice of the footsteps it can scarce fail to hear.

Its master cannot help thinking this strange. Brasfort is not wont to
be thus unwatchful. And of all men Richard Darke should be the last to
approach him unawares. What may it mean?

While thus interrogating himself, Clancy again hears the "tramp-tramp,"
the horse no longer in a walk, but with pace quickened to a trot. And
still Brasfort keeps on scraping! Only when a shadow darkens over, does
he desist; the horseman being now close behind Clancy's head, with his
image reflected in front. But instead of rushing at him with savage
growl, as he certainly would were it Richard Darke Brasfort but raises
his snout, and wags his tail, giving utterance to a note of friendly
salutation!

Clancy's astonishment is extreme, changing to joy, when the horseman
after making the circuit of his head, comes to a halt before his face.
In the broad bright m