and as in a cloud of fury. Van Anden 

 took a turn around that tree and was at 

 my side again with the hat before I 

 reahsed what he was doing. I jerked 

 out a " thank you " between lopes, and 

 of course forbore to remark that a 

 hat without pins was hollow mockery. 

 I dodged the next low branch so suc- 

 cessfully that the pommel in some mi- 

 raculous way jumped up and smashed 

 the crystal in my watch, the same being 

 carried in that mysterious place, the 

 shirt waist front, where most women 

 carry their watches, pocket books, and 

 love letters. 



When we got into the open the ter- 

 rible bellowing — acombination of shriek, 

 groan, and roar in varying pitch — grew 

 louder, and I could just discern a wav- 

 ing ghostly mass in the gray morning 

 mist. I wondered if this were the herd. 



