The pack took fright and fled, its course easily marked by the howls of the crippled members.

Duane reloaded his gun, and, making certain all the hounds had gone, he descended to the ground and set off at a rapid pace to the northward.
The mist had dissolved under a rising sun when Duane made his first halt some miles north of the scene where he had waited for the hounds.

A barrier to further progress, in shape of a precipitous rocky bluff, rose sheer from the willow brake.

He skirted the base of the cliff, where walking was comparatively easy, around in the direction of the river.

He reached the end finally to see there was absolutely no chance to escape from the brake at that corner.