They stirred great areas of pigeons and countless indifferent
coveys of partridges barely moved to avoid the swiftly falling feet. But
no deer crossed near them, and the crashing of a heavy animal through
the bushes diminished into such a steep gulley that they relinquished
thought of pursuit. The chase continued for an unusual distance; the
moon sank into the far, unbroken forest; the stars brightened through
the darkest hour of the night.
Fanny Gilkan and Howat proceeded more slowly now, but still they went
directly, without hesitation, in the direction they chose. They crossed
a log felled over a shallow, hurrying creek; the course grew steeper,
more densely wooded. "Ruscomb Manor," Fanny pronounced over her
shoulder. "Since a long way back," he agreed. Finally a sharper,
stationary clamour announced that the object of the hunt had been
achieved, and a raccoon treed. They made their way to the dim
illumination cast on moving forms and a ring of dogs throwing themselves
upward at the trunk of a tree. There was a concerted cry for "Ebo," and
a wizened, grey negro in a threadbare drugget coat with a scarlet
handkerchief about his throat came forward and, kicking aside the dogs,
commenced the ascent of the smooth trunk that swept up to the obscure
foliage above.
Pages:
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29