me away
in safety.

[Illustration: "THEN HE LEAPED THE FENCE AGAIN."]

With the last of his ebbing strength he burst forth into the open, ran
across the corn-field, passed the corner of the garden, brushed
against the end of the well-sweep, and paused before the open door of
the stable. The heavy door was carelessly propped open with a stick. In
contrast with the glare of the sunshine outside, the interior looked
black and safe. But all about, though mixed with the smell of the
cattle, was the dreaded smell of man. He wheeled aside, dimly intending
to go around the stable and resume his hopeless flight, but as he did so
the yelp of his pursuers broke louder upon his ears. He saw them break
from the woods and dart into the corn-field. This decided him. He
wheeled again, half-staggering, struck blunderingly against the stick
which propped the door open, stumbled across the threshold, ran to the
innermost depths of the stable, and fell gasping into a box stall which
Ramsay had once built for a colt. At the same moment the heavy door, no
longer propped back, swung to with a slam, the big wooden latch rising
smoothly and dropping securely into place.

When the dogs arrived and found the door shut against them they broke
into angry clamour. Once around the building they ran to see if there
was any other entrance. Then they clawed savagely at the door, barking
and growling in their balked fury. Their noise brought Ramsay on the
run from the potato-field, over the rise, where he was working. He was
surprised to see two strange dogs making such a fuss at his stable door.
Being a canny backwoodsman, however, instead of going straight to the
door, he went around behind the stable and looked in the window.

When Ramsay saw the shivering, tawny form and great antlers on the floor
of the stall his heart swelled with exultation. The coveted trophies
were his. He ran into the kitchen for his gun. Then he changed his mind
and picked up, instead, his long hunting-knife. When he approached the
stable door the dogs turned upon him threateningly. But the crisp voice
of authority with which he ordered them aside was something they were
quite too clever to defy. Sullenly, with red eyes of wrath, they obeyed,
waiting for their masters to arrive and support them.

Ramsay closed the door carefully behind him and strode to the box stall,
knife in hand. On its threshold he paused and scrutinized the captive
with triumphant admiration. Sure, b