Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/122

6, 1859.]

they stood petrified, fascinated by the eyes of green fire, there sounded in the wood a single deep bay. It was the bay of a blood-hound. Martin trembled at it.

“They have lost her, and laid muzzled blood-hounds on her scent. They will find her here, and the venison. Good bye, friends, Martin Wittenhaagen ends here.”

Gerard seized his bow, and put it into the soldier’s hands.

“Be a man,” he cried, “shoot her, and fling her into the wood ere they come up. Who will know?”

More voices of hounds broke out, and nearer.

“Curse her!” cried Martin. “I spared her once; now she must die, or I, or both more likely;” and he reared his bow, and drew his arrow to the head.

“No! no!” cried Margaret, and seized the arrow: it broke in half: the pieces fell on each side the bow. The air at the same time filled with the tongues of the hounds: they were hot upon the scent.

“What have you done, wench. You have put the halter round my throat.”

“No!” cried Margaret. “I have saved you: stand back from the window! both. Your knife! quick!”

She seized his long pointed knife, almost tore it out of his girdle, and darted from the room. The house was now surrounded with baying dogs and shouting men.

The glow-worm eyes moved not.

cut off a huge piece of venison, and ran to the window, and threw it to the green eyes of fire. They darted on it with a savage snarl: