44 WITH CARL OF THE HILL 



So without a moment's pause he hunted till dawn 

 and then a sudden inspiration struck him. Of course 

 she had gone to meet him ! She had gone by the 

 way he went. With that he flung the lantern 

 down and ran as he had never run before. He 

 reached the entrance to the pathway. There were 

 the marks of his horse's hoofs, and there sure enough 

 were the tracks of the child's footprints leading right 

 on down the path. They were very slight, but plain 

 enough to the practised eye of the hunter. So he 

 went on hunting like a hound : running sometimes, 

 and sometimes, where the ground was hard, picking it 

 along with painful care. Presently in his eagerness 

 he lost the footprints altogether and so stood quite 

 at fault. He harked back. He found the tracks 

 again at the point where a little crooked path left 

 the other, and into it he bounded like a stag. At first 

 he could make out nothing, the ground was so dry 

 and hard. But now he came to a soft and reedy 

 patch, and there sure enough was again the print of a 

 tiny foot. He panted on with redoubled speed and 

 then, all in a moment, he stopped and reeled while 

 the sweat burst in great beads from his forehead. 

 He remembered his dead-fall trap ! Nothing, he 

 knew well, that had passed beneath that dropping 



