attacking their human prey.

One of them, Bundas, his teeth buried in Michel's left thigh, shook him,
trying to throw him to the ground. A slip, and all would be over; if
he should fall upon the gravel, the man would be torn to pieces and
crunched like a deer caught by the hounds.

A terrible pain nearly made Michel faint--Bundas had let go his hold,
stripping off a long tongue of flesh; but, in a moment, it had the same
effect upon him as that of the knife of a surgeon opening a vein, and
the weakness passed away. The unfortunate man still clutched, as in a
death-grip, Ortog's shaggy neck, and he perceived that the struggles of
the dog were no longer of the same terrible violence; the eyes of the
ferocious brute were rolled back in his head until they looked like two
large balls of gleaming ivory. Michel threw the heavy mass furiously
from him, and the dog, suffocated, almost dead, fell upon the ground
with a dull, heavy sound.

Menko had now to deal only with the Danish hounds, which were rendered
more furious than ever by the smell of blood. One of them, displaying
his broken teeth in a hideous, snarling grin, hesitated a little to
renew the onslaught, ready, as he was, to spring at his enemy's throat
at the first false step; but the other, Bundas, with open mouth, still
sprang at Michel, who repelled, with his left arm, the attacks of
the bloody jaws. Suddenly a hollow cry burst from his lips like a
death-rattle, forced from him as the dog buried his fangs in his
forearm, until they nearly met. It seemed to him that the end had now
come.

Each second took away more and more of his strength. The tremendous
tension of muscles and nerves, which had been necessary in the battle
with Ortog, and the blood he had lost, his whole left side being gashed
as with cuts from a knife, weakened him. He calculated, that, unless he
could reach the little gate before the other dog should make up his mind
to leap upon him, he was lost, irredeemably lost.

Bundas did not let go his hold, but twisting himself around Michel's
body, he clung with his teeth to the young man's lacerated arm; the
other, Duna, bayed horribly, ready to spring at any moment.

Michel gathered together all the strength that remained to him, and
ran rapidly backward, carrying with him the furious beast, which was
crushing the very bones of his arm.

He reached the end of the walk, and the gate was there before him.
Groping in the darkness with his free ha