ho had treated him so coldly.

Then a movement behind reminded him of his strange visitor. He turned
round. The man was already on his feet. He looked better for his sleep,
but the wild look was still in his eyes.

"I must go," he said. "I ought to have started before. Thank you for
your shelter."

Macheson reached out for his spirit lamp.

"Wait a few minutes," he said, "and I will have some coffee ready."

The man hesitated. He looked sorely in need of something of the sort. As
he came to the opening of the shelter, the trembling seized him again.
He looked furtively out as though he feared the daylight. The sunshine
and the bright open day seemed to terrify him.

"I ought to have gone on last night," he muttered. "I must----"

He broke off his sentence. Macheson, too, had turned his head to listen.

"What is that?" he asked sharply.

"The baying of dogs," Macheson answered.

"Dogs! What dogs?" he demanded.

"Colonel Harvey's bloodhounds!"

The man's face was ashen now to the lips. He clutched Macheson's arm
frantically.

"They are after me!" he exclaimed. "Where can I hide? Tell me quick!"

Macheson looked at him gravely.

"What have you been doing?" he asked. "They do not bring bloodhounds out
for nothing."

"I have hurt a man down in the village," was the terrified answer. "I
didn't mean to--no! I swear that I did not mean to. I went to his house
and I asked him for money. I had a right to it! And I asked him to tell
me where--but oh! you would not understand. Listen! I swear to you that
I did not mean to hurt him. Why should I? He was old, and I think he
fainted. God! do you hear that?"

He clung to Macheson in a frenzy. The deep baying of the dogs was coming
nearer and nearer.

"Listen," Macheson said, "the dogs will not be allowed to hurt you, but
if you are loose I promise that I will protect you from them. You had
better wait here with me."

The man fell upon his knees.

"Sir," he begged, "I am innocent of everything except a blow struck in
anger. Help me to escape, I implore you. There are others who will
suffer--if anything happens to me."

"The law is just," Macheson answered. "You will suffer nothing except
justice."

"I want mercy, not justice," the man sobbed. "For the love of God, help
me!"

Macheson hesitated. Again the early morning stillness was broken by that
hoarse, terrifying sound. His sporting instincts were aroused. He had
small sympathy with the use of such means