Sylvia stood well aside from his path, half hidden
in a thick growth of whortle bushes, and watched him swing stiffly
upward, his flanks dark with sweat, the coarse hair on his neck
showing light by contrast. The pipe music shrilled suddenly
around her, seeming to come from the bushes at her very feet, and
at the same moment the great beast slewed round and bore directly
down upon her. In an instant her pity for the hunted animal was
changed to wild terror at her own danger; the thick heather roots
mocked her scrambling efforts at flight, and she looked
frantically downward for a glimpse of oncoming hounds. The huge
antler spikes were within a few yards of her, and in a flash of
numbing fear she remembered Mortimer's warning, to beware of homed
beasts on the farm. And then with a quick throb of joy she saw
that she was not alone; a human figure stood a few paces aside,
knee-deep in the whortle bushes.
"Drive it off she shrieked. But the figure made no answering
movement.
The antlers drove straight at her breast, the acrid smell of the
hunted animal was in her nostrils, but her eyes were filled with
the horror of something she saw other than her oncoming death.
Pages:
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147