Yo-i-ck to him, Lucifer! For-r-r-ard to him, Hecate! Off dashed the three greyhounds from my side at a railway pace, but, as the buck was above them and had a start of about two hundred yards, in such an uphill race both Bran and Lucifer managed to lose sight of him in the undulations.
Now was the time for Hecate's enormous power of loin and thigh to tell, and, never losing a moment's view of her game, she sped up the steep mountain side and was soon after seen within fifty yards of the brick all alone, but going like a rocket.
Now she has turned him! that pace could not last up hill, and round the elk doubled and came flying down the mountain side.
From the point of the hill upon which we stood we had a splendid view of the course; the bitch gained upon him at every bound, and there was a pitiless dash in her style of going that boded little mercy to her game.

What alarmed me, however, was the direction that the buck was taking.

An abrupt precipice of about two hundred and fifty feet was lying exactly in his path; this sunk sheer down to a lower series of grass-lands.
At the tremendous pace at which they were going I feared lest their own impetus should carry both elk and dog to destruction before they could see the danger.
Down they flew with unabated speed; they neared the precipice, and a few more seconds would bring them to the verge.
The stride of the buck was no match for the bound of the greyhound: the bitch was at his flanks, and he pressed along at flying speed.
He was close to the danger and it was still unseen: a moment more and "Hecate" sprang at his ear.

Fortunately she lost her hold as the ear split.

This check saved her.