er days, sat Decimus Saxon, puffing sedately at the long pipe which
was ever his comfort in moments of difficulty. Beneath him, at the base
of the monolith, as our learned men call them, the two great bloodhounds
were rearing and springing, clambering over each other's backs in their
frenzied and futile eagerness to reach the impassive figure perched
above them, while they gave vent to their rage and disappointment in the
hideous uproar which had suggested such terrible thoughts to our mind.

We had little time, however, to gaze at this strange scene, for upon our
appearance the hounds abandoned their helpless attempts to reach Saxon,
and flew, with a fierce snarl of satisfaction, at Reuben and myself.
One great brute, with flaring eyes and yawning mouth, his white fangs
glistening in the moonlight, sprang at my horse's neck; but I met him
fair with a single sweeping cut, which shore away his muzzle, and left
him wallowing and writhing in a pool of blood. Reuben, meanwhile, had
spurred his horse forward to meet his assailant; but the poor tired
steed flinched at the sight of the fierce hound, and pulled up suddenly,
with the result that her rider rolled headlong into the very jaws of the
animal. It might have gone ill with Reuben had he been left to his own
resources. At the most he could only have kept the cruel teeth from
his throat for a very few moments; but seeing the mischance, I drew my
remaining pistol, and springing from my horse, discharged it full into
the creature's flank while it struggled with my friend. With a last
yell of rage and pain it brought its fierce jaws together in one wild
impotent snap, and then sank slowly over upon its side, while Reuben
crawled from beneath it, scared and bruised, but none the worse
otherwise for his perilous adventure.

'I owe you one for that, Micah,' he said gratefully. 'I may live to do
as much for you.'

'And I owe ye both one,' said Saxon, who had scrambled down from his
place of refuge. 'I pay my debts, too, whether for good or evil. I might
have stayed up there until I had eaten my jack-boots, for all the chance
I had of ever getting down again. Sancta Maria! but that was a shrewd
blow of yours, Clarke! The brute's head flew in halves like a rotten
pumpkin. No wonder that they stuck to my track, for I have left both my
spare girth and my kerchief behind me, which would serve to put them on
Chloe's scent as well as mine own.'

'And where is Chloe?' I asked, wiping