e Stag that he would have
got up and driven her away if he had not been afraid of being seen.
But she passed on, and very soon the hounds came up after her. Then
the man brought the white horse across them, trying hard to stop them
from her line, but he could not use his whip; and they only swerved
past him, still running hard, straight to the bed of the Stag. And up
he jumped, his glossy coat gleaming bright in the sun, and every hound
leaped forward with a cry of exultation as he rose.

He went off at the top of his speed straight through the plantation,
for he knew that he had the better of the hounds through the thicket.
But they ran harder than he had ever known since the day when they had
driven him to sea as a yearling, and, as he could wind no other deer,
he made up his mind to cross the moor for the friendly valley where he
had lived so long. So turning his head from the sea he leaped out of
the plantation, and ran down to the water below. He would gladly have
taken a bath then and there, but the hounds were too close; so
splashing boldly through it he cantered aslant up the steep hill
beyond as though it had been level ground. And when he gained the top,
he felt the West wind strike cool upon him, and saw the long waves of
heather and grass rise before him till they met the sky. Then he set
his face bravely for the highest point, for beyond it was the refuge
that he sought.

And on he went, and on and on, cantering steadily but very fast, for
though he heard no sound of their tongues he knew that the hounds were
racing after him, as mute as mice. The blackcock fled away screaming
before him, the hawk high in air wheeled aside as he passed, but on he
went through the sweet, pink heather, without pausing to notice them.
Then the heather became sparse and thin, growing only in ragged tufts
amid the rank red grass and sheets of white bog-flower. He had lain in
this wet ground many times, but no deer was there to help him to-day.
Then the wet ground was passed and the heather came again, sound and
firm, sloping down to a brown peat-stream. Never had its song sounded
so sweet in his ears, never had he longed more for a bath in the amber
water, but the hounds were still racing and he dared not wait. So he
splashed on through the stream and up another ridge, where the heather
grew but thinly amid a wilderness of hot stones. The sun smote
fiercely upon him, and the air was close as he cantered down from the
ridge int