154 THE SILVER FOX 



show her that he was as good a man as 

 Glasgow, his horse as good as Glasgow's; 

 the most primitive and animal of human 

 hatreds had taken hold of him, and was 

 disfiguring mind and face like a possession 

 of the devil. 



In a minute the hoofs of the grey were 

 thudding on the railway sleepers, but in 

 that minute the hounds and Lady Susan 

 had slipped away again ; he felt that if they 

 got any farther from him he would lose 

 them in the mist. The going was heavy 

 and the banks rotten in the boggy lowlands 

 beyond the line. He took no care to pick 

 his way, but rode wildly through swampy 

 patches and over rocks mufiied in furze, in 

 pursuit of the flying shadow that the mist 

 was momently hiding from him. It was 

 not the way to get safely over a bad 

 country. In the next five minutes the 

 grey horse had twice been nearly down, and 

 his white nose was black with bog mud ; 

 he had given up pulling, yet he was going 

 at his best, strong and free, and his ears 



