THE HAUNTED HUNT 17 



" He got his supper and went to bed; and had been 

 asleep some time when he was aroused by a violent 

 knocking at the door, which continued until his hand was 

 on the latch to open it. He looked out. In the yard, 

 which was as light as day with brilliant moonlight, stood 

 six couple of hounds. Not a sign of anything else. He 

 was about to call out, when such a feeling of utter horror 

 came over him as he had no words to describe. Some- 

 thing was hurled past his head into the house. And out 

 of nothing, right in his face rang yells and shrieks of 

 unearthly laughter. 



" How he even managed to bang the door to, and how 

 long he crouched there sick with fright, he had no idea. 

 He left the six couple outside to shift for themselves till 

 daylight. 



" He showed me the object thrown through the door. 

 Still lying where it had fallen was the mangled, wolfish 

 mask of a great dog-fox, and crammed into the mouth 

 were the four pads and a grey fragment of a brush. 



" During the next few days tidings came in. 



" Pride of Tyrone was found, stiff and dead, in a lonely 

 by-road within five miles of the kennels. 



" Singly and in twos and threes the rest of the hounds 

 came back, led, in carts, and limping home alone on 

 weary bleeding feet. 



" By the end of the week there was only one hound 

 unaccounted for. Then we had the story of the doctor 

 at Stoatswold, in the heart of the Oaklands country. 



" Driving home late on the night of the run, he heard 

 hounds killing a fox on the moor above the village, and 

 some one whooping and whooping till the whole country- 

 side resounded. 



