TRACKING THE WOUNDED STAG. 351 



brook that came clashing and roaring over the stony frag- 

 ments in its channel : there a light was very necessary. 

 I could not help stopping for a moment to enjoy the 

 picture before me. My companion in advance was stand- 

 ing on the stones in the middle of the torrent, waiting 

 for me to follow. The crackling flambeau threw a red 

 gleam on his countenance and his bare knees, while all 

 the opposite side of his tall spare figure was in deep sha- 

 dow. Stepping from stone to stone, we crossed the brook 

 and wound up the steep ascent. Beyond our own im- 

 mediate circle there was utter darkness : now and then 

 the bright flame illumined the trunk and the gloomy 

 foliage of a fir-tree as we passed, spreading like a black 

 pall over our heads. The lurid glare made the night 

 which was beyond seem unfathomable. A dead branch, 

 a bleached ghost-like trunk, would start suddenly into 

 existence, and then as suddenly recede and vanish, swal- 

 lowed up again by the pursuing shadows that, like a 

 hungry pack, followed on our steps. Add to this the 

 stillness which brooded over the earth at that hour, — 

 for the torrent now reached our ear but as a low hum, 

 and rather harmonized with, than disturbed the solem- 

 nity, — and it will be understood that the scene was one 

 to arrest the attention of even the least impressionable. 



But it was time to quench the flame of the burning 

 wood, for we were getting near the covert, and more- 

 over a dim grey began to be interwoven with the black- 

 ness in which we had hitherto been enveloped. To the 

 right was a wooded slope, between which and us there 

 lay a deep ravine ; and across it now came the hoarse 

 tones of a stag. 



" That's the same one we heard the day before yester- 

 day : there is no mistaking his voice," said I. 



" And he must be a good one too, judging by the 



