In the rescue which followed the dog bit somebody, for I could hear the sound of hard swearing.

Presently they had forgotten me, and when after a quarter of a mile's crawl I ventured to look back, the train had started again and was vanishing in the cutting.
I was in a wide semicircle of moorland, with the brown river as radius, and the high hills forming the northern circumference.

There was not a sign or sound of a human being, only the plashing water and the interminable crying of curlews.

Yet, oddly enough, for the first time I felt the terror of the hunted on me.

It was not the police that I thought of, but the other folk, who knew that I knew Scudder's secret and dared not let me live.