Then the night shut down darker than before.

As the soundless lightning wavered and brightened, the shadows of the wolves appeared simultaneously to start forward and then retreat, while the noise of their howling carried with it some diabolic suggestion of discordant human voices.
"_La Meffraye! La Meffraye! Meffraye!_" So to the excited minds of the three Scots the wolf legions seemed to be crying with one voice as they came nearer.

All the wild beasts of the wood appeared to be obeying the summons of the witch woman.
The strain of the situation first told upon the Lord James Douglas.
"Great Saints!" he cried, "let us attack them and die sword in hand.

I cannot endure much more of this." "Stand still where you are.

It is our only chance," commanded Sholto, as abruptly as if James Douglas had been a doubtful soldier of his company.
"It were better to find a tree that we could climb," growled Malise with a practical suggestiveness, which, however, came too late.