There was an angry fluttering and hissing, as half running, half flying, they waddled faster towards home.

John Jay did not look to see what direction they were taking.

He was sure they were after him.

He could hear their long wings flapping just behind him; at least, he thought he could, but the noise he heard was the snapping of the twigs he trampled in his headlong flight.

No greyhound ever bounded through a wood with lighter feet than those which carried him.