d she answer the
appeal that, though I pressed Covenant to his topmost speed, she was
never more than a few strides behind him.

'He took this direction,' said I, peering anxiously out into the
darkness. 'He can scarce have gone far, for he spoke of making a stand.
Or, perhaps, finding that we are not with him, he may trust to the speed
of his horse.'

'What chance hath a horse of outstripping these brutes?' Reuben
answered. 'They must run him to earth, and he knows it. Hullo! what have
we here?'

A dark dim form lay stretched in the moonlight in front of us. It was
the dead body of a hound--the one evidently at which I had fired.

'There is one of them disposed of, 'I cried joyously; 'we have but two
to settle with now.'

'As I spoke we heard the crack of two pistol-shots some little distance
to the left. Heading our steeds in that direction, we pressed on at the
top of our speed. Presently out of the darkness in front of us there
arose such a roaring and a yelping as sent the hearts into our mouths.
It was not a single cry, such as the hounds had uttered when they were
on the scent, but a continuous deep-mouthed uproar, so fierce and so
prolonged, that we could not doubt that they had come to the end of
their run.

'Pray God that they have not got him down!' cried Reuben, in a faltering
voice.

The same thought had crossed my own mind, for I have heard a similar
though lesser din come from a pack of otter hounds when they had
overtaken their prey and were tearing it to pieces. Sick at heart, I
drew my sword with the determination that, if we were too late to save
our companion, we should at least revenge him upon the four-footed
fiends. Bursting through a thick belt of scrub and tangled gorse bushes,
we came upon a scene so unlike what we had expected that we pulled up
our horses in astonishment.

A circular clearing lay in front of us, brightly illuminated by the
silvery moonshine. In the centre of this rose a giant stone, one
of those high dark columns which are found all over the plain, and
especially in the parts round Stonehenge. It could not have been less
than fifteen feet in height, and had doubtless been originally straight,
but wind and weather, or the crumbling of the soil, had gradually
suffered it to tilt over until it inclined at such an angle that an
active man might clamber up to the summit. On the top of this ancient
stone, cross-legged and motionless, like some strange carved idol of
form