When the third, however, sprang out into the moonlight, I drew my right-hand pistol from its holster, and resting its long barrel across my left forearm, I fired at it as it passed.

The bullet struck the mark, for the brute gave a fierce howl of rage and pain, but true to the scent it never turned or swerved.

Lockarby fired also as it disappeared among the brushwood, but with no apparent effect.
So swiftly and so noiselessly did the great hounds pass, that they might have been grim silent spirits of the night, the phantom dogs of Herne the hunter, but for that one fierce yelp which followed my shot.
'What brutes!' my companion ejaculated; 'what shall we do, Micah ?' 'They have clearly been laid on Saxon's trail,' said I.'We must follow them up, or they will be too many for him.

Can you hear anything of our pursuers ?' 'Nothing.' 'They have given up the chase, then, and let the dogs loose as a last resource.

Doubtless the creatures are trained to return to the town.