He was none too soon, for the pursuing pack, now uttering short, shrill yelps, were close at the colt's heels.
Lizette, fleet as the wind, could not shake them off.

Closer and ever closer they came, snapping and snarling.

Ranald could see them over his shoulder.

A hundred yards more and he would reach his own back lane.

The leader of the pack seemed to feel that his chances were slipping swiftly away.