instant his
heart stood still. But his craft did not fail him. Without waiting to
see the lean, long shapes flash by, he arose and noiselessly faded
back through the covert, moving as softly as a shadow till he felt
himself out of ear-shot. Then he dashed away at top speed, determined to
put a safe distance between himself and these disconcerting adversaries.

[Illustration: "NOISELESSLY FADED BACK THROUGH THE COVERT."]

He kept on now till his heart was near bursting, and when at last he
made his strategic loop and lay down to rest and watch he felt that he
must have secured ample time to recover. But not so. Before he had half
got his wind, and while his flanks were yet heaving painfully, those
meagre but terrible cries again drew near. This time, perforce, he let
the pursuers run by, and saw that they seemed as fresh as ever. Then he
sprang up and resumed the flight, shaken by the first chill of real
terror that he had known since that forgotten day in the thicket when
the hare and the fisher jumped upon him.

His flight now led him past the back lots of Ramsay's farm, where the
cattle were pasturing. Either because his sudden fear made him seek
companionship or with an idea of confusing his scent with that of the
cattle, he leaped into the pasture and ran here and there among the
mildly wondering cows. Then he leaped the fence again at the farthest
corner, plumped into the thick underbrush, and headed toward the fields
with which he had been wont to make so free. He had just vanished in the
leafage when his pursuers appeared at the other side of the pasture.
They ran in at once among the cows, paying no heed whatever to angry
snorts and levelled horns, unravelled the trail with perfect ease,
dashed over the fence again, and darted into the underbrush with a new
note of triumph in their yelpings.

When the buck heard their voices so close behind him his knees almost
gave way. He knew he could not run much farther, and he knew his shifts
were all vain against such implacable foes as these. He half-paused,
with a brave impulse to stand at bay. But some other impulse, undefined,
but potent, urged him on toward Ramsay's farm. It was familiar ground,
and he had never suffered any hurt there. He knew that the old farmer
was most dangerous, but he was not an instant, horrible, inevitable
menace like this which was close upon his heels. Moreover, he had seen
the cattle go up to the barn-yard and take refuge there, and co