Then came other bays, lower, more distant.

Silence enfolded him again, all the more oppressive and menacing in his suspense.

Bloodhounds had been put on his trail, and the leader was not far away.

All his life Duane had been familiar with bloodhounds; and he knew that if the pack surrounded him in this impenetrable darkness he would be held at bay or dragged down as wolves dragged a stag.

Rising to his feet, prepared to flee as best he could, he waited to be sure of the direction he should take.
The leader of the hounds broke into cry again, a deep, full-toned, ringing bay, strange, ominous, terribly significant in its power.