The snorting of the horses prevented our hearing any distant sound, and I gave a holloa and listened for some answering voice from a dog.

Instead of a sound, Bran and Lucifer suddenly appeared.

This was conclusive evidence that the pack was somewhere in this direction, and we rode out into the plain and again listened.

Hark to old Smut! there was his deep voice echoing from the opposite hills.

Yoick to him, Bran! forward to him, Lucifer! and away the greyhounds dashed towards the spot from which the sound proceeded.