THE HAUNTED HUNT 15 



out of the Teal Valley. The bells of Frogbere Church 

 were still faintly audible, mingling with the intermittent 

 cry of hounds, which, now on one side of the wood, now 

 on the other, was gradually coming towards me. 



" At length the cry ceased altogether, and then from 

 the wood came a sound that made my spine crawl. 



" It was a voice. A voice that never had a like : the 

 voice of Anthony Nunn ! 



" ' Yeu-eup ! ' it went, * Try for-ard ! ' 



" With the cold sweat dripping off me I sat there 

 paralysed ; and the beautiful voice came on : 



"'En, Marksman! — Yooi, tny lads! — Yooi, wind 

 him ! ' Nearer and nearer it came, ringing and echoing 

 through the wood like a bell. And still I sat there. My 

 limbs were lead and my brain was numb, and I sat there 

 waiting, for what unspeakable apparition I had no 

 conception. 



" Louder and louder it grew : ' Yeu-eup ! — Push him 

 up ! — Yooi, my lads ! — Yeu, try in there ! ' 



" Then from the wood there crept the dim form of the 

 grey bobtailed fox. With one foot raised he stood listen- 

 ing a moment, and stole away towards the sunset. 



" In cover a hound spoke, then another : a deep note 

 like an otter-hound. 



" The voice cheered him till the air throbbed, * Hiiic ! — 

 Huic ! — Huic ! to Marksman !—Ho-o-o-o-ick ! ' 



" The old hound crashed through the brushwood, alert 

 and eager — the Marksman of yore. Throwing that 

 sonorous tongue of his, with his nose on the line he drove 

 along. Scoring to cry the hounds poured out. And then, 

 every muscle on my body literally twitching, I heard the 

 voice close at hand, and an approaching horse. 



