Hitherto the little group on the brow of the one-tree hill had stood motionless, while the gay, animated scene revolved around them, a glittering circle wheeling around the stationary centre; but now, when the servants of the chase, huntsman and verdurer, prickers, all streamed up the long hill at their best pace, all wheeled around the tree and its gay company, swelling the din with the flare and braying of their horns, the gallant stag appeared to comprehend that a fresh band of enemies were added to his first pursuers—for he half turned his head to gaze on them, half paused for a moment to snuff the air, with nostrils pridefully dilated, and flanks heaving, not with weariness as yet, but with contempt and scorn, then with a toss of his antlers, and a loud snort of indignation, set his head fair to the north-west, full for the hills of Scotland, and went away at long sweeping bounds that seemed to divide the green slope by leaps of eight yards each, soared back again over the rough stone wall, and went crashing through the thickets straight for the tall oak palings and the river, as if he were bound for some distant well-known point, on a right line as the crow flies it. And now for the gentlemen the chase was begun, and Gerald Howard led it, like their leader as he was in all things, and the rest followed him like men as they were, and brave ones—but to the ladies it was ended so soon as they had breathed their palfries down the slope to the stone wall and the wood-side at an easy canter; and they returned to the hill-top, where they found viands and refreshments spread on the grass; and long they lingered there watching the hunt recede, and the sounds of the chase die away in the far distance. But it was long ere the sights and sounds were lost all and wholly to their eyes and ears—for the quarry still drove on, as straight as the crow flies, due northward—due northward the chase followed.