hived sweet shadow as
a hive hoards honey, and the rustling grass that stretched to infinity,
and that moved and crept and swung under the breeze in endless, rhythmic
billowings.

In his wildest moment Fionn was thoughtful, and now, although running
hard, he was thoughtful. There was no movement of his beloved hounds
that he did not know; not a twitch or fling of the head, not a cock
of the ears or tail that was not significant to him. But on this chase
whatever signs the dogs gave were not understood by their master.

He had never seen them in such eager flight. They were almost utterly
absorbed in it, but they did not whine with eagerness, nor did they cast
any glance towards him for the encouraging word which he never failed to
give when they sought it.

They did look at him, but it was a look which he could not comprehend.
There was a question and a statement in those deep eyes, and he could
not understand what that question might be, nor what it was they sought
to convey. Now and again one of the dogs turned a head in full flight,
and stared, not at Fionn, but distantly backwards, over the spreading
and swelling plain where their companions of the hunt had disappeared.
"They are looking for the other hounds," said Fionn.

"And yet they do not give tongue! Tongue it, a Vran!" he shouted, "Bell
it out, a Heo'lan!"

It was then they looked at him, the look which he could not understand
and had never seen on a chase. They did not tongue it, nor bell it, but
they added silence to silence and speed to speed, until the lean grey
bodies were one pucker and lashing of movement.

Fionn marvelled. "They do not want the other dogs to hear or to come on
this chase," he murmured, and he wondered what might be passing within
those slender heads.

"The fawn runs well," his thought continued. "What is it, a Vran, my
heart? After her, a Heo'lan! Hist and away, my loves!"

"There is going and to spare in that beast yet," his mind went on. "She
is not stretched to the full, nor half stretched. She may outrun even
Bran," he thought ragingly.

They were racing through a smooth valley in a steady, beautiful, speedy
flight when, suddenly, the fawn stopped and lay on the grass, and it lay
with the calm of an animal that has no fear, and the leisure of one that
is not pressed.

"Here is a change," said Fionn, staring in astonishment.

"She is not winded," he said. "What is she lying down for?" But Bran and
Sceo'lan did not sto