The reason of this headlong speed was at the same time made
evident by the appearance of a pack of hounds, which, followed by a
numerous field in scarlet, was coming across the grass-land in full cry.
The spectacle, though weird and strange, was by no means without a
certain grandeur--like some barbarous pageant. Yorke understood the
situation at a glance. He had heard the keeper say that, not content
with his wild progresses through the park, the Squire had sworn to drive
his stags one day into the market-town, and this he had doubtless
actually accomplished; but, on his return, he had had the misfortune to
be caught sight of by one of his own packs of hounds, which were now in
full pursuit of him, like another Actaeon. The terrified stags, with
that deep-mouthed menace of their natural enemies ringing in their ears,
at once threw off all control, and had left their grooms behind them in
half a dozen bounds. If only the harness held, they would be at the
lodge gate in a very few minutes; but, on the other hand, the hounds
were nearer to that point, which they were approaching diagonally. They
were running, of course, by sight, like greyhounds, and with greyhounds'
speed. Above their eager mellow notes, and the mad shouting of the
excited sportsmen, and the ceaseless winding of the disregarded horn,
above the thunder of his own wheels, and of the hoofs of his strange
steeds upon the wintry road, rang out Carew's hoarse tones: "The gate,
the gate!" If only that wooden wall could be interposed between his
stags and their pursuers, all might yet be well.
Pages:
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57