Gerald rushed out at him; but ere he could use his cudgel, a streak of white lightning seemed to strike the hound, and he grovelled in the dust, wounded desperately, but not killed, and howling piteously.
Gerard had not time to despatch him: the coppice rustled too near: it seemed alive.

Pointing wildly to Martin to go back, Gerard ran a few yards to the right, then crept cautiously into the thick coppice just as three men burst out.

These had headed their comrades considerably: the rest were following at various distances.

Gerard crawled back almost on all-fours.

Instinct taught Martin and Margaret to do the same upon their line of retreat.