Thus, within the distance of a few yards, the pursuers and pursued were passing one another upon opposite tracks.
A loud cry announced the discovery of the dead and the wounded hound.
Then followed a babble of voices, still swelling as fresh pursuers reached the spot.

The hunters, as usual on a surprise, were wasting time, and the hunted ones were making the most of it.
"I hear no more hounds," whispered Martin to Margaret, and he was himself again.
It was Margaret's turn to tremble and despair.
"Oh, why did we part with Gerard?
They will kill my Gerard, and I not near him." "Nay, nay! the head to catch him is not on their shoulders.

You bade him meet us at the ash-tree ?" "And so I did.

Bless you, Martin, for thinking of that.

To the ash-tree!" "Ay! but with less noise." They were now nearly at the edge of the coppice, when suddenly they heard hooping and hallooing behind them.