A moment later the squire was dragging the infuriated animal from the prostrate body of Walter Goddard. Stamboul had tasted blood; it was no easy matter to make him relinquish his prey. The cloud passed from the moon, driven before the blast, and a ray of light fell through the trees upon the scene. Juxon stood wrestling with his hound, holding to his heavy collar with both hands with all his might. He dared not let go for an instant, well knowing that the frenzied beast would tear his victim limb from limb. But Juxon's hands were strong, and though Stamboul writhed and his throat rattled he could not free himself. The squire glanced at the body of the fallen man, just visible in the flickering moonlight. Walter Goddard lay quite still upon his back. If he was badly wounded it was not possible to say where the wound was. It was a terrible moment. Mr. Juxon felt that he could not leave the man thus, not knowing whether he were alive or dead; and yet while all his strength was exerted to the full in controlling the bloodhound, it was impossible to approach a step nearer. He was beginning to think that he should be obliged to take Stamboul to the Hall and return again to the scene of the disaster. "Mr. Juxon! Juxon! Juxon!" John was shouting as he ran up the park. "This way! look sharp!" yelled the squire, foreseeing relief. John's quick footsteps rang on the hard road. The squire called again and in a moment the young man had joined him and stood horror-struck at what he saw. "Don't touch the dog!" cried the squire. "Don't come near him, I say!" he added as John came forward. "There--there has been an accident, Mr. Short," he added in calmer tones. "Would you mind seeing if the fellow is alive?" John was too much startled to say anything, but he went and knelt down by Goddard's body and looked into his face. "Feel his pulse," said the squire. "Listen at his heart." To him it seemed a very simple matter to ascertain whether a man were alive or dead. But John was nervous; he had never seen a dead man in his life and felt that natural repulsion to approaching death which is common to all living creatures. There was no help for it, however, and he took Walter Goddard's limp hand in his and tried to find his pulse; he could not distinguish any beating. The hand fell nerveless to the ground. "I think he is dead," said John very softly, and he rose to his feet and drew back a little way from the body. "Then just wait five minutes for me, if you do not mind," said Mr. Juxon, and he turned away dragging the reluctant and still struggling Stamboul by his side.