It woke the echoes of Sleepy Hollow.

It crossed the Hudson.

The granite walls of the Palisades flung it back against the granite walls of the prison.
Whichever way the convict turned, it hunted him, reaching for him, pointing him out--stirring in the heart of each who heard it the lust of the hunter, which never is so cruel as when the hunted thing is a man.
"Find him!" shrieked the siren.

"Find him! He's there, behind your hedge! He's kneeling by the stone wall.

THAT'S he running in the moonlight.