the hollow, the
troop descried the hart flying swiftly along a sweeping glade at
some two hundred yards distance. The glade was passed--a woody knoll
skirted--a valley traversed--and the hart plunged into a thick grove
clothing the side of Hawk's Hill. But it offered him no secure retreat.
Dragon and Saturn were close upon him, and behind them came Herne,
crashing through the branches of the trees, and heedless of all
impediments. By-and-by the thicket became more open, and they entered
Cranbourne Chase. But the hart soon quitted it to return to the great
park, and darted down a declivity skirted by a line of noble oaks. Here
he was so hotly pressed by his fierce opponents, whose fangs he could
almost feel within his haunches, that he suddenly stopped and stood at
bay, receiving the foremost of his assailants, Saturn, on the points of
his horns. But his defence, though gallant, was unavailing. In another
instant Herne came up, and, dismounting, called off Dragon, who was
about to take the place of his wounded companion. Drawing a knife from
his girdle, the hunter threw himself on the ground, and, advancing on
all fours towards the hart, could scarcely be distinguished himself
from some denizen of the forest. As he approached the hart snorted and
bellowed fiercely, and dashed its horns against him; but the blow was
received by the hunter upon his own antlered helm, and at the same
moment his knife was thrust to the hilt into the stag's throat, and it
fell to the ground.

Springing to his feet, Herne whooped joyfully, placed his bugle to his
lips, and blew the dead mot. He then shouted to Fenwolf to call away and
couple the hounds, and, striking off the deer's right forefoot with his
knife, presented it to Wyat. Several large leafy branches being gathered
and laid upon the ground, the hart was placed upon them, and Herne
commenced breaking him up, as the process of dismembering the deer is
termed in the language of woodcraft. His first step was to cut off
the animal's head, which he performed by a single blow with his heavy
trenchant knife.

"Give the hounds the flesh," he said, delivering the trophy to Fenwolf;
"but keep the antlers, for it is a great deer of head."

Placing the head on a hunting-pole, Fenwolf withdrew to an open space
among the trees, and, halloing to the others, they immediately cast off
the hounds, who rushed towards him, leaping and baying at the
stag's head, which he alternately raised and lowere