The cloud passed from the moon, driven before the blast, and a ray of light fell through the trees upon the scene.

Juxon stood wrestling with his hound, holding to his heavy collar with both hands with all his might.

He dared not let go for an instant, well knowing that the frenzied beast would tear his victim limb from limb.

But Juxon's hands were strong, and though Stamboul writhed and his throat rattled he could not free himself.

The squire glanced at the body of the fallen man, just visible in the flickering moonlight.