es loitered an instant at the same place, looked warily round, and
then, as Luke conjectured, followed the course taken by the hound.

Swift as thought, Luke arose, and keeping as much as possible under
cover of the trees, started in a cross line for the lane. Rapid as was
his flight, it was not without a witness: one of the keeper's
assistants, who had lagged behind, gave the view-halloo in a loud voice.
Luke pressed forward with redoubled energy, endeavoring to gain the
shelter of the plantation, and this he could readily have accomplished,
had no impediment been in his way. But his rage and vexation were
boundless, when he heard the keeper's cry echoed by shouts immediately
below him, and the tongue of the hound resounding in the hollow. He
turned sharply round, steering a middle course, and still aiming at the
fence. It was evident, from the cheers of his pursuers, that he was in
full view, and he heard them encouraging and directing the dog.

Luke had gained the park palings, along which he rushed, in the vain
quest of some practicable point of egress, for the fence was higher in
this part of the park than elsewhere, owing to the inequality of the
ground. He had cast away his gun as useless. But even without that
incumbrance, he dared not hazard the delay of climbing the palings. At
this juncture a deep breathing was heard close behind him. He threw a
glance over his shoulder. Within a few yards was a ferocious bloodhound,
with whose savage nature Luke was well acquainted; the breed, some of
which he had already seen, having been maintained at the hall ever since
the days of grim old Sir Ranulph. The eyes of the hound were glaring,
blood-red; his tongue was hanging out, and a row of keen white fangs was
displayed, like the teeth of a shark. There was a growl--a leap--and the
dog was close upon him.

Luke's courage was undoubted. But his heart failed him as he heard the
roar of the remorseless brute, and felt that he could not avoid an
encounter with the animal. His resolution was instantly taken: he
stopped short with such suddenness, that the dog, when in the act of
springing, flew past him with great violence, and the time, momentary as
it was, occupied by the animal in recovering himself, enabled Luke to
drop on his knee, and to place one arm, like a buckler, before his face,
while he held the other in readiness to grapple his adversary. Uttering
a fierce yell, the hound returned to the charge, darting at Luke,